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NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 






There Was a Long-drawn, Admiring Oh-h-h!” 

— Page 35 







NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


BY 

EMILY HOPKINS DRAKE 

'/ 


ILL US TRA TED BY 
F. J. BUTTERA 



5 » 



BOSTON 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO. 






V 











Copyright, 1931, 

BY 

Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. 


pzi 

H>X 



All Rights Reserved 


Natalie and the Brewsters 


PRINTED IN U.S.A. 


SEP J S 1321 

©CIA 42436 





TO 

MY SISTERS, JULIE AND RUTH, 
IN LOVING APPRECIATION 












CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

Prologue.11 

I. Introducing the Brewster Family . . 27 

II. Rinty . . . •.51 

III. The End of a Perfect Day .... 62 

IV. Natalie Makes a Decision .... 71 

V. Amateur Detectives.87 

VI. News from Uncle Roddy .... 104 

VII. Over at Carlotta’s.127 

VIII. Tempest and Sunshine.146 

IX. Molly Entertains.163 

X. A Wanderer Returns.180 

XI. Uncle Roddy.198 

XII. The Blow Falls.210 

XIII. A New Development.227 

XIV. Mutiny.238 

XV. Where is Natalie?.247 

XVI. Amos Intervenes.258 

XVII. Rodney Makes a Discovery .... 268 

XVIII. Natalie’s Mother.284 

XIX. All’s well that Ends well . . .296 

Epilogue.304 


7 









ILLUSTRATIONS 

There was a long-drawn, admiring 

“Oh-h-h!” (Page 35) .« . . Frontispiece 

FACING PAGE 

The small girl marched along with a cer¬ 
tain air of importance.14 

“Home at last!”.180 

She laid her hand upon the golden head . 296 


9 






NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 

PROLOGUE 

The road was rough and deep with dust. Ox- 
eyed daisies, giant thistles, and Queen Anne’s 
lace, in rank profusion, grew in an uneven and, 
seemingly, unending border along its level, tree¬ 
less length; and beyond these, on either side, 
stretched a riot of wild blackberry bushes and 
sumac. Uncared-for, little travelled, it lay like 
a dull gray ribbon across the gay carpet of the 
glowing countryside until, as if wearying of its 
own unlovely monotony, it vanished, presently, 
around a distant bend. 

A July sun beat pitilessly down upon it, 
and upon a small figure trudging along in the 
center of its lengthening perspective; a figure 
strangely out of keeping with that solitary place, 
for it was a scrap of a girl in a pink linen frock, 


ll 


12 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


her chubby knees grimy with dust, her golden 
head bare of any covering. Yet she was not 
without companionship, for in her arms, an ex¬ 
traordinary, coy-looking doll was clasped as if 
it were the last link connecting her with the 
world whence she had come. 

That it was a vastly different world was read¬ 
ily apparent. This was no country child. The 
daintiness of her clothing, together with the 
interest she displayed in the commonplace things 
about her, gave evidence of that. Even the 
doll, an imported creation of hand-painted felt, 
shared in the general impression, and seemed as 
out of place in that rural setting as an orchid 
in a field of buttercups. 

You knew at a glance that these two had 
stepped from a world bounded by stone pave¬ 
ments and park walls; a world where little feet 
were warned to KEEP OFF THE GRASS, and 
little hands forbidden to pick flowers. No won¬ 
der this small person looked with amazement 
at the wealth of flowers on every side,—dusty, to 
be sure, and many of them past their freshest 



PROLOGUE 


13 


blooming, but, nevertheless, desirable in her 
young eyes; at the tall wayside grasses swaying 
in the breeze, and at the green of distant, rolling 
hills. Surely, here one might find the unknown 
but longed-for joy of freedom; here one might 
find relief from that nagging voice forever say¬ 
ing, “Now, Miss Natalie, you know you aren’t 
allowed to pick those flowers. See,—the police¬ 
man’s watching you! ” or, “Just look what you’ve 
done to your pretty dress! Wait till I tell your 
mamma what a naughty girl you’ve been!” 

The small girl marched along with a certain 
air of importance and much flirting of short pink 
skirts, as one who would say “I’m my own boss 
now,—just watch me! ” And from her business¬ 
like manner, it was obvious that she had a very 
definite goal; for she neither loitered nor turned 
aside, but ploughed steadily and rapidly on, 
kicking up a large cloud of dust as she went. 

It was nice, she decided, to be out here alone, 
—she was not at all afraid; nice to be walking 
in this queer, dusty road instead of riding in the 
big, green car; nice to be rid of Dulcie and the 


14 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 

red-haired man who had looked at her with such 
hard eyes and called her a “brat.” She had been 
glad when Dulcie told him to stop the car and, 
lifting her down, had said, “There, now,— run 
along,—that’s a good girl! There’s a house just 
round that bend. See?—It’s just a little way. 
And your mamma’s there waiting for you.” 
Then they had driven away and left her standing 
in the road. 

It was only another of the many strange things 
that had happened within the last few days. 
Her world, it seemed, had gone all topsy-turvy. 
Into the midst of a rather boresome existence a 
cablegram had come; and this it was which 
had been the beginning of an extremely unpleas¬ 
ant chain of events. 

First had come the hurried packing of trunks; 
and a white-faced, tearful little mother begging 
her, between good-bye kisses to “be a good girl 
and mind Dulcie.” Then, with her departure, 
the red-haired man had come upon the scene; 
and on him, Natalie had laid the blame for all 
that happened later,—the lonesome days and 



The Small Girl Marched Along with a Certain Air 

of Importance.— Page 13 




PROLOGUE 


15 


fearsome nights when Dulcie left her to her¬ 
self, coming in at irregular hours to give her her 
meals and put her to bed; and the strange, hur¬ 
ried train trip, and then the ride in the big 
green car; and now this,—strangest of all these 
strange happenings—being set down on a coun¬ 
try road, quite alone, and told that Mother was 
waiting “just round the bend.” It was all so 
queer and different, and hard for a four-year- 
old mind to understand. 

But the bend in the road did not look so very 
far away, and she started toward it, happy in the 
thought of seeing Mother again so soon. But 
a very odd thing happened: the farther she 
walked, the farther away it seemed to be, almost 
as if it moved along a little with every step she 
took. It certainly was puzzling, and exas¬ 
perating too! 

At first she walked briskly, though the dust, 
ankle-deep in places, made every step more or 
less of an effort. But, presently, her feet began 
to drag, and she had to prod herself in order to 
make them go at all. 


16 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


To do this, she began to talk aloud in a quaint 
little way she had. 

“Jus’ a little bit more,” she said; and because 
it sounded encouraging, she straightway said it 
again, “Jus’ a little bit more.” Then, almost 
before she knew it, she had made a rhyme: 

“Jus’ a little bit more, 

One—two—three—four.” 

The rhythm of it helped a lot; it was easy to 
keep step to, and she soon discovered that she 
could go much faster when she said it. 

“Jus’ a little bit more, 

One—two—th ree—f our.” 

She could see a clump of blue flowers growing 
just where the road slipped out of sight around 
the bend. She thought it would be nice to pick 
some for her mother. A chipmunk scuttled 
across the road almost at her feet, and she paused 
to watch him wonderingly. The only squirrels 
she knew were big, fat, gray ones that waylaid 
you in the park and begged for peanuts. This 
one seemed to be afraid. 


PROLOGUE 17 

She started on again,—her journey almost 
over. 

“Jus* a little bit more, 

One—two—three—four.” 

The bend was close at hand now, and the 
flowers— 

“Jus’ a little bit more —” 

Now she had reached it!—But there was no 
house in sight, only the road stretching on and 
on,—deserted, interminable. 

Natalie looked about her in bewilderment. 
Here was the bend to which Dulcie had pointed; 
but where, oh, where was the house? She stood 
perfectly still for a few minutes, peering about 
hopefully, as if half expecting to see it spring 
up out of the ground before her in a magical 
sort of way. Too young to realize the serious¬ 
ness of her plight, her first feeling was one of 
disappointment. Soon, however, this gave 
place to fright, and she began to cry; not with 
quiet tears as is the way of some children, but 


18 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


with loud, hysterical sobbing which, as a vague 
suspicion that she had been tricked dawned 
upon her, gave way to ear-piercing shrieks of 
rage. She screamed, she roared, dancing up and 
down in a perfect frenzy. “Dulcie told a lie! 
Dulcie told a lie!” 

Then, possibly, because there was no one to 
hear her; but, more probably, because her tears 
had, in some measure, cooled her wrath, she 
stopped as suddenly as she had begun, and set 
about drying her eyes. As no handkerchief 
was available, she wiped her face on her short 
pink skirt, and was properly concerned at sight 
of the resulting black smudges. She tried to 
clean them off, but it was no use; they were 
there to stay. So she gave it up as a bad job, and 
turned her attention elsewhere. 

The effort, however, had served as a diversion, 
and the only remaining signs of her emotional 
outburst were an occasional sniffle and a tremu¬ 
lous catching of the breath. 

She sat down by the roadside and began to 
play with the dust. It was soft and deep and 


PROLOGUE 


19 


powdery, and as it trickled through her fingers, 
it reminded her of seashore sand, and was every 
bit as nice to dig in. 

Thus half an hour passed. Then the sound 
of approaching wheels made her glance up with 
quick apprehension. A fat, black-and-white 
horse hitched to an old-fashioned, mud-spattered 
buggy came slowly around the bend. In the 
buggy, slouching forward with hands between 
his knees, sat a large old man. His round, 
good-natured face was framed in a tangle of 
gray hair which straggled down well over his 
coat collar. He wore no hat, and was chewing 
on a spear of timothy grass which dangled from 
one corner of his mouth down on his ragged, 
grizzly beard. In all her life, Natalie had never 
seen such an odd-looking person. 

“Whoa, Nellie! Whoa there, girl!” he said, 
pulling on the slack reins and bringing the horse 
to a stop just opposite where the little girl was 
sitting. He looked kindly down at her. 

“Want a ride, sissy?” he inquired. 

Natalie shook her head. 


20 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


“Don’t think I’ve seed you afore,” he re¬ 
marked tentatively, scratching his head with 
one pudgy hand. “Live round here?” 

Natalie shook her head once more,—this time 
vigorously—and went on with her digging. 

“Where do ye live?” he asked. 

Natalie made no reply, though she would have 
liked to, for he seemed a friendly, harmless soul; 
but training was stronger than desire, and it 
had often been impressed upon her that she 
must not talk to strangers. 

“Visitin’ near here?” persisted the old man. 

Still no answer. 

“Guess you must ha’ swallered your tongue,” 
he chuckled, making ready to drive on. 

Whereupon, just to prove to him that she 
hadn't, Natalie stuck it out as far as it would go. 

This seemed to tickle the old man mightily. 
He shook all over with mirth. 

“You’re a sassy little witch,” he said. 

Then, clucking to his horse, and giving the 
reins a feeble shake, he started on; for there 
was a local ball game in the next town that 


PROLOGUE 


21 


afternoon, and that, to Amos Runkle, was of 
infinitely greater importance than trying to 
solve the riddle of a strange child playing by the 
roadside, miles from any habitation. 

A lump came into Natalie’s throat as she sat 
there watching him drive off. She wished in a 
furtive, frightened little way that he would 
come back and talk to her some more, though 
she knew right well that, even if he did, she 
would never, never answer him. Her chin began 
to quiver, but she choked back her tears, for 
the old man was looking at her now, leaning far 
out over the wheel of his lop-sided buggy, still 
laughing. And as she watched, he stopped his 
horse, suddenly, as if he had forgotten some¬ 
thing. 

“Hi, sissy! Hi, sissy!” he called loudly. 

Natalie stumbled to her feet and as she did so, 
he—yes, actually,—stuck out his tongue at her. 
Then with a great guffaw and slapping of reins, 
drove on. 

Terrified at the thought of being left alone 
once more, Natalie ran after him down the road. 



22 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


“Wait, man, wait!” she called as loudly as she 
could. 

But Amos, lost in ruminations of anticipated 
pleasure, did not hear. 

Fireflies were dancing about in the dusk when 
Natalie, footsore and weary, came in sight of 
The Big House. Except for a few intervals 
when she had sat down to rest, she had kept 
moving steadily on all day, and was now so 
exhausted that the effort of walking had become 
a mere mechanical process. She had long since 
lost all interest in her surroundings, and looked 
about her with dull, indifferent eyes. Now, 
however, the sight of shelter close at hand 
roused her to some extent, and brought with it 
a vague sense of relief. For, aside from the 
fact that it would have been physically im¬ 
possible for, her to go much farther, distant 
growls of thunder warned of an approaching 
storm. 

It was a plain, old-fashioned house whose 
wide porches and rambling wings spoke of com- 


PROLOGUE 


23 


fort rather than beauty; a house which, by its 
very simplicity, seemed to radiate a quiet hap¬ 
piness. It was somewhat shabby and sadly in 
need of paint, but, for all that, possessed an air 
of liveableness as well as homely dignity, as if 
it felt that outward appearances meant little 
so long as it might shelter in its arms people 
who loved it well. 

Lights shone in its lower windows, the gate 
swung wide as if in welcome, and through an 
avenue of trees a gravelled walk led up across 
a gently-sloping lawn, mysterious and shadowy 
in the gathering gloom. 

To Natalie, toiling slowly up this lane, there 
came the sound of music and of laughter and 
of children’s voices, singing. The words of the 
rolicking ditty came clearly through the open 
window: 

“Once there lived a little man, 

Where a little river ran, 

And he had a little farm and little dairy 0! 

And he had a little plough, 

And a little dappled cow, 

Which he often called his pretty little fairy 0!” 


24 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 



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She climbed the broad steps to the front door; 
but seeing no bell, and being too short to reach 
the big brass knocker which gleamed half-way 
up its white expanse, she pounded with all the 


























































































PROLOGUE 


25 


strength of her two small fists on its lower 
panels, crying imperiously, “Let me in!” 

But the noise of the thunder, combined with 
the merriment inside, made her efforts inaudible. 

What to do next, Natalie did not know. The 
storm was very close, now. Great jagged flashes 
of lightning lit up the yard with startling 
frequency; and then she could see a child’s 
swing hanging from a branch of one of the tall 
trees, and an empty doll carriage overturned 
nearby. Afterward, darkness and the muffled 
roll of thunder made the night all the more 
terrifying. 

“Once his little daughter Ann, 

With a pretty little can, 

Went a-milking when the morning sun was beaming O!” 
sang the children. 

“Boom! Boom! Boom!” went the thunder, 
rumbling away into an ominous silence. 

Natalie began to cry in a quiet, ineffectual 
sort of way. She was far too spent for a noisy 
outburst, such as she had given voice to earlier 
in the day. But, gradually, as the song con- 


26 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


tinued, she found herself listening to the words, 
and soothed by the music, her crying ceased. 
And when, a little later, a friendly small dog came 
trotting up the steps and began to sniff her 
over, inquisitively, she found real comfort in 
its presence and stroked its smooth head gently 
until, with a sigh of contentment, it snuggled 
down beside her and went to sleep. 

Then, suddenly, with the roar of swiftly down¬ 
pouring rain, the storm broke; and Natalie, too 
exhausted for further effort, cowered close to the 
doorway, a limp, scared heap. 


i 


CHAPTER I 

INTRODUCING THE BREWSTER FAMILY 

The day had been an exciting one for the 
Brewster family. In the first place, it was 
Sally’s seventh birthday, an event, in itself, quite 
worthy of distinction in this household where a 
birthday was considered every bit as important 
as Christmas. And in the second place, it had 
brought a new experience into their lives, an 
experience so delightful that they could never 
think of it in after years without a little thrill 
of ecstasy. 

Sally had awakened that morning with a feel¬ 
ing of elation. For weeks there had been secrets 
in the air, whisperings and knowing looks, fre¬ 
quent excursions into town, mysterious packages 
whisked out of sight at her approach, shrieks of 
“Don’t look!” if she entered a room suddenly 


27 


28 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


and warnings to three-year-old Bobby not to 
tell things; all of which had served, not only to 
whet her curiosity, but also to gratify her small 
soul with a sense of her importance. 

A pleasant warmth stole over her as she lay 
there, her glance flitting about the airy, chintz- 
hung room with its three other beds where her 
brother and sisters were still sleeping. It had 
come at last—the day for which they had worked 
and planned and waited ,—her day! 

Through the wide-flung casement windows, 
she could see the tossing green branches of the 
maples, and beyond these, as through a lacy 
screen, a sky all blue and gold, with clouds like 
huge beaten egg-whites floating slowly by. And 
she was happy, not because she was thinking of 
the surprises which she knew awaited her down¬ 
stairs, but because the day with its birds and sun 
and summer sweetness seemed to have been 
made that way expressly for her. 

“Seven years old!” she chuckled to herself. 
“Next year Y 11 be eight,—then nine! And I'll 
be as old as Phyllis!” 


THE BREWSTER FAMILY 29 

That Phyllis moved ahead, too, in the matter 
of age, did not at once occur to her. 

The grandfather’s clock on the stair-landing 
boomed seven, and she sat up briskly, laughing, 
as the fancy struck her that it might well be 
announcing the years of her life instead of merely 
their rising time. 

At her movement, Phyllis’s big brown eyes 
flashed open, and she bounded out of bed, crying, 
“Hooray, everybody! Hooray! Hooray!—It’s 
Sally’s birthday! Hilda,—wake up, quick! 
Come on, let’s pummel her!” 

And with squeals of joy, the two little girls 
came racing across the room to fling themselves 
upon her with frantic embraces. 

Such a noisy frolic then ensued, that Bobby 
was roused from his slumbers, and came scut¬ 
tling backward over the side of his crib for all 
the world like a fat, clumsy little crab. Eager 
to join in the fun, but finding her small bare feet 
the only part of her available, at the moment, 
he was forced to content himself with tickling 
these. 


30 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


“Happy day! Happy day!” he babbled 
shrilly, hopping up and down on unsteady toes, 
as he circled round and round her. 

Bobby was too young to have any very clear 
ideas in regard to birthdays. Once, he recalled, 
long, long, ago, he had had one himself. 
It stirred vague, pleasing memories of pres¬ 
ents, of a cake ablaze with candles and of 
large helpings of caramel ice-cream. It also 
brought a remembrance of special dispensations 
in regard to bed-time and the taking of naps. 
And recollecting that Sally was the one about 
whom the interesting preparations of the past 
few weeks seemed to revolve, he decided that she 
was a person whose good will it would be well 
to cultivate. There was much of the diplomat 
in Bobby. 

When the uproar had subsided a little, and 
he could make himself heard, he sidled up to 
her with an ingratiating smile. 

“You’re goin’ to be awful s’prised,” he said, 
“you’re goin’—” 

“Sh-h-h! ” Hilda’s hand was over his mouth in 


THE BREWSTER FAMILY 31 

an instant. But he wriggled himself free, and, 
from a distance, glared defiance. 

“I wasn’t goin’ to tell anysing,” he sputtered 
wrathfully, filled with indignant protest at the 
implied mistrust. “You bad girl,—you!” 

“Come now, let’s not have any crossnesses on 
Sally’s birthday.” 

It was Phyllis who spoke. Though younger 
than Hilda by two years, she was the ruling 
spirit of the little flock, and managed her brother 
and sisters with a firm hand. 

“Let’s hustle and see who’ll get dressed first,” 
she said. “The one who beats can help Bobby, 
’cause he can’t go as fast as the rest of us.” 

“I can, so!” Bobby spoke with firm conviction, 
starting in manfully on shoes and socks. 

Whereupon the others followed suit, and, for 
a brief space, quiet reigned in the big room, save 
for their rapid, panting breaths, their scurrying 
footsteps and subdued giggles as, with stealthy, 
sidelong glances, they watched each other’s 
progress. 

Phyllis was ready first. So she turned her 


32 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 

attention to poor bewildered Bobby who, with 
one arm through the wrong sleeve of his little 
blouse, was struggling vainly to locate the other 
armhole. 

“Oh, Bobby!” she groaned, extricating him 
with more haste than gentleness, “you’ve got 
everything on inside-out and backside-to, and 
your shoes on the wrong feet. I’ll have to un¬ 
dress you and start all over again!” 

Bobby looked worried. “Will I be late?” he 
queried anxiously, giving himself into her hands 
with the meekness of defeat. 

“No. We’ll all wait and go down together,” 
said Phyllis as she peeled off his little garments 
and deftly readjusted them. Though only nine, 
she was a capable child, quick and accurate in 
all she did, and apt to be a trifle intolerant of 
those less clever than herself. 

“There!” she said at length, fastening the last 
button and regarding the result with approval. 
“Now, Mr. Robert Harrington Brewster, you’re 
ready at last.” 

Bobby grinned. 


THE BREWSTER FAMILY 33 

“Don’t we ever have to wash ourselves on 
birfdays?” he inquired in a surprised voice. 

Phyllis looked at him blankly. 

“Wash?” she echoed. “Oh, my goodness, 
gracious me!” 

And leaning weakly against the wall, she burst 
into such uncontrollable laughter that the other 
two girls came running to find out what was the 
matter. 

“What’s the joke?” they demanded eagerly. 

“We were in such a hurry, we—all—forgot—to 
— wash!” gurgled Phyllis. 

Hilda and Sally joined in the shout; and 
Bobby, believing himself responsible for their 
hilarity, strutted up and down, remarking with 
a good deal of complacency, “Eve’ybody has to 
laugh at me,—I’m so funny.” 

“What’s so funny, darlings?” 

At the question they all turned, and there, in 
the doorway, stood Mother, smiling down at 
them. 

“Oh, Mother, listen!” 

They fluttered to her like so many gay little 


34 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


butterflies to a favorite flower; each trying to 
explain and excuse the omission; also trying to 
talk a little louder and a little faster than the 
other, and all laughing so uproariously that it 
was a wonder they could make themselves under¬ 
stood at all. 

She listened to them, laughing indulgently; 
and when the clamor had somewhat subsided, 
said, “It’s plain to see that you’re all getting old 
and forgetful like poor old Aunty Baker, who 
puts on two dresses and then goes around looking 
for another.” 

She stooped to kiss their happy, upturned 
faces, giving Sally a special hug. 

“Happy birthday, darling,” she whispered. 

Then gently disengaging herself from their 
embraces, she said briskly, “Come now,—Gussie 
has breakfast ready and waiting.—Into the 
bathroom, every one of you! And please, 
please try to remember what the soap and nail¬ 
brush are for! Come, Bobby,—I’ll take you 
with me.” 

And with these admonitions, she left them. 


THE BREWSTER FAMILY 35 

Ten minutes was sufficient for ablutions on 
a day which promised to be filled with things of 
infinitely greater importance. Then they came 
racing downstairs to join their father, mother, 
and Bobby in the hall below, where the delicious 
odor of breakfast made them sniff the air and 
shout delightedly, “Hooray!— Muffins!” 

At sight of their father, laughter broke out 
afresh for, in honor of the occasion, so he de¬ 
clared with all seriousness, he had donned a huge, 
fierce-looking, false mustache, its ends tied up 
with pink ribbons. They cast themselves upon 
him with noisy greetings; but he, escaping from 
their rough caresses, swung Sally up to his broad 
shoulder and fled ahead of them down the wide 
hall. At the dining-room door, however, he 
paused and set her down. 

“Sally first, Sonny,” he said as Bobby tried 
to push past her into the room. 

There was a long-drawn, admiring “Oh-h-h!” 
as the children filed slowly through the door¬ 
way, and beheld the flower-laden table and 
the pyramid of packages at Sally’s place. 


36 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


Bobby, in the foreground, eyed the stack ex¬ 
pectantly. 

“Anysing for me?” he asked with a speculative 
air. 

“No, dear,—this is Sally’s day,” said Mother. 
“Don’t you remember?” 

Bobby’s “Ye-e-s,” though prompt, was rather 
dubious. He was thinking how much nicer 
birthdays would be if every one could have a 
hand in opening the packages. His small 
fingers fairly itched to share in the interesting 
process. 

But for a short time they all had to curb their 
curiosity; for it was an unwritten law in the 
Brewster household that no presents were to be 
opened until after the cereal had been eaten. 
So the children attacked their steaming dishes 
of oatmeal with alacrity, and very little talking 
ensued. 

“I know one present that’ll make her laugh,— 
don’t you, Phyll?” remarked Hilda mysteriously, 
as she scraped up the last drop of cream in her 


saucer. 


THE BREWSTER FAMILY 37 

“I know two/’ answered Phyllis, smiling 
roguishly. 

Bobby pounded the table with his teaspoon. 
“I know more’n anybody in the whole world/’ 
he announced grandly, not to be outdone by his 
elders. 

“Modesty, thy name is Robert,” said Father, 
his eyes twinkling. 

“Don’t be so smarty, Bobs,” admonished 
Phyllis. “Stop talking, and eat your cereal.” 

Bobby banged the table with his spoon once 
more. 

“I is done!” he shouted. “See?” And held 
up his empty saucer in proof of his assertion. 

Gussie, coming in just then with a fresh 
pitcher of cream, rescued the dish from his ex¬ 
cited little hands. 

“Bress his li’l pink heart,” she murmured. 
For of all the Brewster children, Bobby held 
the warmest place in her affections. 

“Which one you going to open first, Sally?” 
asked Phyllis. 

Sally surveyed the assortment thoughtfully, 


38 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


and decided at once in favor of a large, oblong 
box, wrapped in silver paper and tied with a 
wide pink ribbon. 

“That looks good to me,” she said. 

“That’s Mother’s,” said Hilda. 

“No fair telling,” cautioned Mother. 

Hilda’s face crimsoned. “I’m sorry,” she 
faltered. 

“No harm, dear; only I thought it might be 
a little more fun if she didn’t know.” 

Mother smiled reassuringly at the downcast 
face of her eldest; for Hilda was a sensitive child 
and felt the slightest rebuke keenly. 

Then Gussie came in to remove the cereal 
dishes, and the fun began. 

With fingers trembling with excitement, Sally 
untied the pink-ribboned package, while the 
children looked on, eager and expectant. As the 
last wrappings fell away, there was a chorus of 
exclamations. 

“A new dress!” cried Sally, casting a trium¬ 
phant look at Phyllis and remarking with con¬ 
siderable satisfaction, “Now I won’t have to 


THE BREWSTER FAMILY 39 

wear your old made-over green one for best any 
more!” 

And hopping down from her chair, she ran 
around the table to her mother, and throwing 
both arms about her neck, whispered, “Thank 
vou.” 

“It’s just like Carlotta’s,” she added after a 
more thorough inspection of it, “an’ I love 
yellow.” 

Carlotta, being the only child of wealthy 
neighbors, was naturally looked upon by the sim¬ 
ple little Brewsters as a pattern of all that was 
elegant. 

Bobby, meanwhile, had slipped out of his high- 
chair, and, unobserved by the others, helped 
himself to one of the packages. It was a small, 
square box which rattled when he shook it; and 
he knew its contents well. 

“Open zis one, sister,” he begged, holding it 
out eagerly. 

But Sally, gloating over treasures yet to come, 
ignored his outstretched hand. 

“Oh, Bobby, I want to look at this one first,” 


40 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


she said a trifle petulantly, selecting a large 
box from the bottom of the heap. And as she 
struggled with its fastenings, Bobby turned 
dejectedly away. 

“I’ll bet this is a hat,” she chuckled in excited 
anticipation. 

Hilda and Phyllis exchanged knowing looks. 

But the tightly knotted cord would not yield 
to her small fingers. 

“Oh, Father dear, do please cut it for me 
quick!” she begged. 

So Father, taking out his big clasp-knife, 
slashed the string, and the box fell open. But 
instead of the hat she had expected to find, all 
it contained was another, somewhat smaller, box. 

Sally gave a disappointed grunt. 

“Well,” she remarked, taking it out and look¬ 
ing it over critically, “that’s funny!” 

Phyllis snickered. 

Then Sally opened the second box, and this 
disclosed to her bewildered eyes, a third; and 
this, in turn, a fourth,—and still no present! 
The children watched with dancing eyes as box 


THE BREWSTER FAMILY 41 

after box came into view, each a trifle smaller 
than the one preceding it. 

Finally, when she had arrived at the tenth, 
Sally exclaimed in a tone of desperation, “Well, 
I don’t see how they can get much little-er! 
This is the weeniest one I ever saw.” 

Then she lifted its tiny cover,—and all she 
found was a shoe button! What a shout went 
up at sight of it! Even Gussie, who had busied 
herself about the table in order to watch the 
fun, let out a wild whoop, and vanished into 
the kitchen, declaring vociferously, “You can’t 
beat dem chilluns!” 

After this, the smaller packages were opened. 
There were enough presents for a family of 
children instead of just one little girl,—a five- 
dollar gold-piece from Father, books, games, and 
several pretty home-made trifles from Hilda and 
Phyllis, a beautiful doll from Uncle Roddy, who 
was in Paris, a bunch of paper roses from Gussie, 
a box of candy from Carlotta, and many other 
gifts both large and small. 

“I wonder if anybody else has as much fun as 


42 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


we do over birthdays,” said Sally, leaning back 
in her chair and gazing at the litter of gay 
papers which surrounded her and made the room 
look as if a rainbow had exploded there. Only 
two presents now remained unopened. Mother 
looked at them with a puzzled expression. 

“Why,—where’s Bobby’s present for you?” 
she asked. “I’m sure I put it with the rest. 
Have any of you seen it?” 

They all shook their heads. 

“And where—by the way—is Bobby?” 
queried Father. 

As if in answer to his question, a sound came 
from the hallway, a tinny, rattling sound. 
They listened anxiously. 

“All-1-1-1 aboa-ahd! Twain fo’ N’Yawk! 
Choo! Choo! Choo!” came to their ears in 
a softly droning little voice they recognized. 

With a gesture to the others for silence, Father 
tiptoed to the doorway where he paused and, 
finger to lips, beckoned them to follow. They 
did so noiselessly. 

There, sprawled on his stomach, lay Bobby, 



THE BREWSTER FAMILY 


43 


gazing with eyes of rapture at the coveted ob¬ 
ject before him,—his birthday gift to Sally. A 
small tin disk, it was, painted to represent a 
landscape with brooks and bridges, fields and 
towns; while round and round its rim, in a 
never-ending journey, ran an enchanting little 
train. 

How could they know that as he lay there, 
his body was as empty as a locust’s shell, while 
his spirit travelled to far distant places,—Brake- 
man, Conductor, Engineer of that miniature 
express? 

Mother’s eyes were misty as they returned 
once more to their places, leaving the little fellow 
to his play. And Gussie, who had taken the 
opportunity to peep out, also, muttered feel- 
ingly, 

“Po’ li’l lamb! Nobody wouldn’t pay no 
’tention to ’im, so he jus’ look out fo’ hisse’f.” 

“Trust Bobs to do that,” said Phyllis. 

Sally looked ashamed. 

“I ’member now, he asked me to open it,” she 
said, genuinely sorry for her neglect. And her 


44 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


face was sober as she picked up one of the two 
remaining packages and listlessly tore off the 
paper. 

The box inside seemed empty until she shook 
it; then out dropped a little card on which was 
printed in large capitals: 

LOOK IN MOTHER’S WORK BASKET. 

“Ah, ha!” said Mother when Sally, in obedi¬ 
ence to the injunction, had run upstairs. “I 
thought I heard some very mysterious noises in 
the sewing-room last evening. This explains 
it.” 

Hilda looked at Phyllis reproachfully. “You 
never told me a thing about it, Phyll,” she said. 

“No,” grinned Phyllis. “I wanted to have 
this joke all to myself.” 

At this moment, Sally returned, breathless, 
waving aloft a small square of blue cardboard. 

“This is all I could find,” she announced. 

“Let’s hear what it says,” said Father. 

So Sally, though not a skillful reader, by any 
means, managed to spell out the words: 


THE BREWSTER FAMILY 


45 


LOOK IN THE SILVER DRAWER. 

So she went to the old mahogany sideboard 
and pulled out the upper drawer where all the 
knives and forks and spoons were kept. And 
here lay another card; and this one bore the in¬ 
scription : 

LOOK ON THE ATTIC STAIRS. 

“Oh, my goodness!” exclaimed the excited lit¬ 
tle girl, her cheeks aflame as she started once 
more up the long flight of stairs to the second 
floor. 

By this time they were all laughing; so when 
Sally came back shortly and, with a hopeless 
air, displayed a card which bade her 

LOOK IN THE GARBAGE PAIL. 

Hilda nearly had hysterics, and Mother cried 
in amused remonstrance, “Oh, Phyllis /” 

“It’s all right, Mother,” Phyllis answered re¬ 
assuringly, “Gussie scrubbed it out for the oc¬ 
casion.” 


46 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


But there was no present in the garbage pail, 
only another card which sent the eager little feet 
running down cellar to the coal-bin, in whose 
dark and dusty interior further orders were 
posted: 

LOOK ON THE LOWEST SHELF OF 
FATHER’S BOOKCASE, 

said the card. And here, at last, her patience 
was rewarded, for behind a volume of “Huckle¬ 
berry Finn,” there was a small square parcel 
wrapped in red crepe paper. 

“I bet it’s just another joke,” she giggled, while 
they all looked on with interest to see what the 
box contained. 

Then she gave a startled exclamation, and her 
face grew quite pink. 

“What is it ?” asked Hilda. “Let’s see, Sally.” 

“It’s Phyllis’s ring,” said Sally in a breathless 
voice. “The lovely one Uncle Roddy gave her. 
She mustn’t give it to me,—must she, Mother? 
It’s too nice to give away.” 

Mother looked at Phyllis’s glowing face. 


THE BREWSTER FAMILY 


47 


“Are you sure you want her to have it, dear?” 
she asked. 

Phyllis nodded. “Course I do,” she answered. 
“It’s too small for me, now, and—and, besides 
—” she hesitated ever so slightly—“Sally loves 
pretty things so much.” 

In spite of all her efforts to make it sound natu¬ 
ral, Phyllis found her voice getting husky. For 
the little circlet of gold, with its three small 
pearls in their quaint and lovely setting, had 
been one of her most cherished possessions. She 
cleared her throat impatiently, wondering why 
they all looked at her so strangely. The ring 
was hers to give if she wished, and it was awfully 
embarrassing to have them all so serious about 
it. She wished some one would smile, and be¬ 
gan to laugh, rather foolishly, herself. 

“Well, anyway,” she said, “I made you work 
for it.” 

But Sally could not reply. She stood look¬ 
ing at the ring, anxious to accept it, yet feeling 
that she shouldn’t; so Father, seeing that the 
situation was becoming somewhat strained, 


48 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


broke the silence by demanding plaintively, 
“Say, young lady, I wish you’d finish opening 
your presents. I want my breakspup! I’m 
starving!” 

So, at a nod from Mother, Sally slipped the 
ring over her finger, and turned her attention 
to the last of her presents. 

It was a large, official-looking envelope, and 
when she had lifted the flap, out upon the table 
fell eight oblongs of pink pasteboard. 

“What are they?” queried the other two girls, 
craning their necks to see. 

“I—don’t—know,” said Sally, thoroughly 
perplexed. “What are they, Father?” 

“That’s for you to guess,” teased Father. 

Three pairs of brown eyes scanned the slips 
with absorbed interest. 

“Majestic Theatre,” they read in unison. 
“Admit one.” 

For a moment there was silence; then Phyllis 
pronounced a single magic word,— “Movies!” 

“Father!” they shrieked, “is it,—is it really 
the movies?” 


THE BREWSTER FAMILY 


49 


“Fm afraid it is,” he admitted gravely, though, 
behind the absurd mustache, the corners of his 
mouth were twitching. 

“Are you going to take all of us,—and Mother, 
too?” 

“If you have no better plans for this after¬ 
noon. 

“The movies! the movies!” they chanted in 
an ecstasy, their eyes like stars, their faces ra¬ 
diant. For these children, simply reared, had 
never seen a moving-picture show. 

“Can I go, too?” came a plaintive voice from 
the hallway as Bobby thrust his face in at the 
door. 

“Why, of course we won’t leave you out, 
Bobs,” was Father’s emphatic answer. “And 
since the car will hold eight, and there are 
eight tickets, perhaps Sally would like to invite 
two of her friends to go with us.” 

“Oh, I’d love to ask Carlotta,” cried Sally 
without a moment’s hesitation. 

“And who else?” queried Hilda. 

Sally deliberated for a moment. “Wei-1-1,” 


50 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


she said at last, ‘Til bet Maudie May would 
like to go.” 

“Oh, yes ,—do ask her,” agreed the other girls. 

That one guest was the daughter of the local 
banker, the other, the grandchild of their colored 
maid-of-all-work made no difference to them. 

Above their bobbing brown heads, Mother 
looked at Father with a contented smile. 

“Well,” she said, “now that this momentous 
question has been settled, let’s finish breakfast.” 

“I second the motion,” said Father, heartily. 

So Mother rang for the muffins. 


CHAPTER II 


RINTY 

It was a merry party that set out that after¬ 
noon in the big gray Packard. Father and 
Mother sat on the front seat with Bobby between 
them. The four little girls were in back, their 
bright faces and gay dresses making the dingy 
old car look (so Father declared) as if the flow¬ 
ers of the garden had commandeered it for a joy¬ 
ride. 

The idea tickled their fancies. 

‘Tm the Rose, then/’ said Hilda. And, in¬ 
deed, she looked it, in her shell-pink frock, with 
her flushed cheeks and soft, dark curls. 

Phyllis, slim, dark-skinned and bright-eyed 
as a young robin, surveyed her own lavender 
dimity, thoughtfully. 

“What’ll I be?” she asked, turning to the oth¬ 
ers for advice. “Would Violet do?” 

51 


9 


52 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


“Oh, no, Phyll,” responded Hilda quickly. 
“Violet doesn’t suit you at all. It’s such a 
scared, sort of shrinking little thing. Don’t you 
think Iris is better?” 

“Well, p’raps it is,” assented Phyllis. “Now 
let’s see if we can think of a good name for 
Maudie May.” 

But that young lady was quite capable of mak¬ 
ing her own decision as she sat very straight and 
stiff and self-conscious in her spotless white 
pique. 

“I’s a Lily,” she announced, gravely. “Dat’s 
what I is.” 

And they all agreed that this was entirely ap¬ 
propriate. 

“Now we must find a flower to match Sally’s 
new dress,” they said. This was a hard one, 
there were so many yellow flowers to choose 
from,—Daffodil, Marigold, Sunflower, Calen¬ 
dula—each lovely in its way, yet none of them 
seeming quite to fit Sally’s bright, sparkling 
little face in its frame of straight brown hair. 

Poor Sally!—her soul was in revolt at the fact 



RINTY 


53 


that her hair did not curl. How she longed for 
Hilda’s soft ringlets, Phyllis’s mop of curls, or 
even Bobby’s tight kinks! But to have straight 
hair,—not a wave or a crinkle anywhere! It was 
disappointing, to say the least. Nature, how¬ 
ever, as if to compensate for this neglect, had 
been generous in the matter of dimples. 

“I think Black-eyed Susan would be good,” 
suggested Phyllis. 

“Buttercups is yaller,” remarked Maudie May. 

“But don’t you think that Golden Glow is 
nice?” asked Hilda. 

“Just the thing,” commented Phyllis. “It 
isn’t a very pretty flower, but its name sounds 
just the way Sally looks.” 

Then Bobby, not to be left out of this inter¬ 
esting game, announced in a loud voice that he 
would be a Dandelion. 

“Oh, Bobby!” they all screamed, “who ever 
heard of a blue Dandelion?” 

Mother gave him a big squeeze. “You might 
be our little Periwinkle,” she said smiling down 
at his sober face. 


54 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


The mile to the Smith residence was quickly 
traversed, the children chattering gaily all the 
way. 

As they turned into the driveway leading to 
the big stone structure which Carlotta called 
“home,” Sally remarked with a sigh, “I wish 
our house was like Carlotta’s.” 

“I don’t,” said Phyllis emphatically. “Almost 
everything in it is too nice to even touch.” 

“There isn’t anything in our house so nice as 
that,—is there, Mother?” This from Hilda. 

“I hope not, darling.” 

“Carlotta’s house is just for grown-ups,—not 
for little girls, at all,” observed Phyllis shrewdly. 

“Well, I don’t care,— / like it,” said Sally with 
a touch of perversity. “It’s just like a—a 
palace” 

“Humph!—I’d rather have a house than a 
palace, any day,” retorted Phyllis. 

And Hilda remarked dreamily, “It isn’t a 
happy-looking house as ours is. Ours is so 
friendly . It always looks as if it were smiling, 
—doesn’t it, Maudie May?” 


RINTY 


55 


Maudie May, thus deferred to, became some¬ 
what embarrassed. She showed all her teeth 
in a wide grin as she replied, “It sure do! De 
front door looks like a mouf,—alius standin’ 
open, like it was laughin’.” And she subsided 
in a spasm of delighted giggles. 

As they drew up under the massive porte- 
cochere, Carlotta, who had been watching for 
them, came running down the broad stone steps. 
She was a slender sprite of a child with great 
dark eyes and soft, copper-colored hair. Though 
nearer Hilda’s age, she was no larger than Phyl¬ 
lis, and had a shy, suppressed manner which 
was very appealing. She greeted the elder 
people prettily; then turned to the children 
who were feasting their eyes upon her loveli¬ 
ness. 

“Oh, Carlotta!” they cried, “How beautiful 
you look!” 

“Just like a yellow rose,” said Hilda. “I’m a 
pink one. We’re all flowers this afternoon.” 
And they told her their new names jubilantly. 

Carlotta liked the idea immensely. “I’ll be 


56 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


Mrs. Aaron Ward,” she said. “That’s the name 
of Mother’s yellow rosebush.” 

So Mrs. Aaron Ward climbed in and took her 
seat between Golden Glow and Iris. 

Then Mrs. Smith, a fat, florid, fussy woman, 
came hurrying down the steps with Carlotta’s 
sweater over her arm. 

“How do you do, Mr. Brewster!” she ex¬ 
claimed. “And Mrs. Brewster, too? It was so 

* 

dear of you to invite my kiddy to go with you. 
—She’s been so excited ever since you tele¬ 
phoned. For a while, I was afraid she was run¬ 
ning a temperature and would have to stay 
home. It’s funny she should get so worked up 
over just a movie show. She’s been so many 
times with Merritt, my chauffeur, and his wife. 
But I suppose it’s because the children are go¬ 
ing. It does seem to make a difference, some¬ 
how,—doesn’t it?—Carlotta, are you cold?— 
Let Mother feel your hands.—I really do think 
you should have worn your coat.” 

“Oh, it’s so warm,” protested Mother Brew¬ 
ster. 


RINTY 


57 


“Yes, I know it is, now; but it may blow up 
cold before you get back,—the weather is so 
changeable these days. So, if you don’t mind, 
I’ll just leave this sweater with you, and if it’s 
at all chilly in the theatre, will you put it on her? 
She is so delicate, you know, and so susceptible 
to the slightest change in temperature. On the 
way home, I am sure she’ll need it,—the breeze 
from driving is apt to be cold at that time of the 
day.—Why,—aren’t you taking any wraps for 
your kiddies?—Oh, well,—they are such husky 
little things. You should be very thankful. 
How sweet they all look!—” 

Father pulled out his watch. “I’m afraid we’ll 
have to be getting along,” he apologized. “This 
is an event of great importance, you know,— 
our first experience at the movies,—and we don’t 
want to miss anything.” 

Mrs. Smith looked incredulous. “Not really! ” 
she gasped. “How very interesting! Well, I 
do hope then, for their sakes, that the picture is 
a good one!” 

“Oh, we made sure of that ” said Father, and 


58 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


they started off with vociferous good-byes and 
much waving of hands. 

As they drove up Main Street in the thriving 
little university town of Armitage, and stopped 
before the ornate entrance of the Majestic Thea¬ 
tre, a silence fell upon the children. The sight 
of the gay exterior with its bright posters, uni¬ 
formed attendants and throngs of people, 
quieted their spirits, awing, yet alluring them 
with hints of mysteries within. 

“A rather big crowd for quiet little Armitage,” 
commented Mother. 

“Yes, a picture like this brings them from 
miles around/’ said Father. 

Then he gave the tickets to the man at the 
door, and, straightway, they were ushered into 
that marvellous, glittering place. 

“It’s like a church— almost/’ whispered Phyl¬ 
lis to Sally when they were in their seats and the 
first throbbing notes of the organ broke the still¬ 
ness. 

“Only lots prettier,” responded Sally gazing 
raptly at the garish decorations. 


RINTY 


59 


They watched with wonder as the lights above 
them slowly dwindled to mere pin-points, then 
went out altogether; and the curtains on the 
great stage parted, revealing a rectangle of 
gleaming white. 

Hilda, sitting next to her father, slipped her 
hand into his. 

“Oh, Father,” she whispered tremulously, “I’m 
afraid I’m going to cry.” 

There followed a moment of breathless sus¬ 
pense, and then the title announcement flashed 
forth in letters clear and startling: 

RINTY, THE WONDER-DOG. 

There was another pause, a flicker of light 
and, suddenly, upon the screen, his sad eyes 
gazing into theirs, appeared the noble figure of 
a great police dog. 

There was a long-drawn, worshipful 
“Oh-h-h!” from the children as the creature 
seemed to spring to life before their very eyes. 
From the first moment, they adored him, and 
through six reels sat, hopelessly enthralled, while 


60 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


the magical story unfolded; in their childish 
credulity, accepting as fact the simple tale of 
this dog’s courage and love for his master. 

All too soon it was over; the lights flared up, 
the people filed out and, reluctantly, they left 
that palace of their dreams, and took their places 
in the car once more, subdued, but gloriously 
happy. 

But on the homeward trip their tongues 
were loosed. “Rinty!—Rinty!—Rinty! ”—they 
could talk of nothing else; his beauty, his cour¬ 
age, his almost-human understanding. 

Even Carlotta, to whom a movie was no ex¬ 
traordinary treat, waxed enthusiastic over it, 
and said as they dropped her at her door, “Thank 
you, Mrs. Brewster. I had a lovely time. The 
picture was lots nicer than ‘Partners in Divorce’ 
that I saw last week with Merritt and Stella, an’ 
it was better than ‘Soulmates’, too.” 

And Maudie May expressed her praise in ex¬ 
travagant words of her own coining. “Dat’s de 
excitin’est picture an’ de ’straordinariest dog I 
ebber did see,” she avowed with emphasis. 


RINTY 


61 


“Well,” said Father, laughing, “I take it our 
party was a success.” 

Mother smiled assent, then pointed to the 
west, where thunderheads were gathering. 

“I think we’d better hurry, Tom,” she said. 
“A storm is coming.” 


CHAPTER III 


» 


THE END OF A PERFECT DAY 

Bobby was asleep when they reached home, 

* 

well ahead of the storm; but he roused when 
Father carried him in and laid him on the couch 
in the living-room. 

“Vm hungry/’ he murmured drowsily, sitting 
up and rubbing his eyes. 

“Gussie has supper all ready, darling,” said 
Mother, returning from a hurried trip to the 
kitchen in time to hear his plaintive remark. 
“Come, girls,— we’ll sit right down.” 

But though Bobby ate his supper with the 
ravenous enthusiasm of a shipwrecked sailor, 
the little girls had no desire for food. Indif¬ 
ferent, even, to the splendors of the glimmering 
birthday cake, choicest specimen of Gussie’s cul¬ 
inary art, they merely toyed with what was set 
before them, living, again, in blissful retrospect, 


62 





THE END OF A PERFECT DAY 63 


each moment of that gorgeous afternoon. But 
we all have our limitations; and what, after all, 
is a birthday cake, when one is surfeited with 
pleasure? 

Mother found it hard to quiet them and 
gather them, as was her custom, about the piano 
for the evening “sing”, with which they always 
closed their day. For the storm, now close at 
hand and threatening to break at any moment, 
added a note of uneasiness to the general excite¬ 
ment. 

“Come, now,” said Mother, seating herself 
at the piano, and lifting Bobby up on the bench 
beside her, “we’ll let Sally choose the song to¬ 
night. What shall it be?” 

They gathered round her, whispering, sug¬ 
gesting, laughing, a pretty sight, so Father 
thought, as, with pipe and book neglected, he 
watched them from his easy-chair under the 
reading-lamp. 

“Sing Twamp, twamp, twamp’,” begged 
Bobby. 

“Oh, Bobs, you always choose that one,” re- 


64 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


monstrated Sally, “I wish we could sing about 
a dog, to-night.” 

“I know one!” said Phyllis. “ ‘Once there 
lived a little man’,—that has a dog in it.” 

“Oh, yes, yes, yes!” cried the others, de¬ 
lightedly. “We haven’t sung that one in a long 
time.” 

So Mother struck a few chords on the piano, 
and then the old house rang with the words of 
the tuneful little ballad: 

“Once there lived a little man, 

Where a little river ran, 

And he had a little farm and little dairy 0! 

And he had a little plough, 

And a little dappled cow, 

Which he often called his pretty little Fairy 0! 

“And his dog he called Fidelle, 

For he loved his master well, 

And he had a little pony for his pleasure 0! 

In a sty not very big, 

He’d a frisky little pig, 

Which he often called his little piggy treasure 0!” 

Here, Bobby interrupted their singing. 
“Muvver!” he exclaimed excitedly, “I hear a 
funny noise like some one poundin’!” 


THE END OF A PERFECT DAY 65 


“It’s only the wind, dear,” answered Mother. 
“A piece of the tin gutter-pipe has come loose, 
and it’s blowing that.—Tom, we ought to get 
that mended, dear, it might fall and hurt some¬ 
body.” 

“Once his little daughter Ann, 

With a pretty little can, 

Went a-milking when the morning sun was beaming 0! 

sang the children. 

“Boom! Boom! Boom!” went the thunder, 
rumbling away into an ominous silence. 

With hands over their ears, they continued the 
song, Father joining in with his pleasant bari¬ 
tone. 

“But when she returned, I don’t know how, 

She stumbled o’er the plough, 

And the cow was much astonished at her screaming 0! 

“Little maid cried out in vain, 

While the milk ran o’er the plain, 

Little piggy running after it so gaily 0! 

And Fidelle not far behind, 

For a taste was much inclined, 

So he pulled back piggy, squealing, by his taily 0! 


66 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


“Such a clatter then began, 

Quite alarmed the little man, 

Who came running from without his little stable 0! 
Pony stepped on doggy’s toes, 

Doggy snapped at piggy’s nose, 

Piggy made as much a noise as he was able 0! 

“Then to make my story short, 

Little pony, with a snort, 

Lifted up his little heels so very clever 0! 

The little man came tumbling down, 

Which almost broke his little crown, 

And only made the matter worse than ever 0! ” 

“Sing it again!” ordered Bobby, who had 
left the group at the piano after the third verse, 
and taken refuge on Father’s knee where the 
glare of the almost incessant lightning was not 
so easily visible. 

“Not to-night, sweetheart,” said Mother. 
“It’s been an exciting day,—high time you little 
folks were in bed.” 

“Oh, Mother,—no! Just a little longer!” 
they coaxed. “We’re not the least bit sleepy.” 
But she would not listen to their entreaties. 
“Kiss Father good-night,” she said. Then 
Mother marshalled the protesting little band 


THE END OF A PERFECT DAY 67 


up the well-worn treads of the old stairway to 
the cheerful room above, where four small beds, 
turned down and waiting, invited their tired bod¬ 
ies to enter and be ferried across to the land of 
dreams. 

The storm was now at its height, and the 
whole house shook and quivered with the fury 
of it. 

“I’m ’fwaid,” whimpered Bobby as Mother 
tucked him into his crib, seeing that he was far 
too sleepy for prayers. 

“Isn’t he a silly?” scoffed Sally, sitting down 
on the floor and beginning to unbuckle her little 
white sandals. Then a sudden thought struck 
her, and she paused with one shoe in her hand, 
her face radiant with hope. 

“Mother,” she said in a hesitating voice, “do 
you s’pose we’ve got enough money to buy 
Rinty? Do you s’pose Rinty’s master would 
sell him?” 

“Sell him!” screamed Hilda and Phyllis in one 


breath. “What!—after Rinty had saved his 
life?—He couldn’t,— could he, Mother?” 



68 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


Poor dears!—she could not disillusion them. 
“No,” she answered, “of course not.” 

“But his master might die,” persisted Sally. 
“Maybe we could buy him then.” 

The idea appealed to them; they discussed its 
possibilities, feverishly. 

“Oh—I don’t s’pose we can ever have Rinty,” 
said Phyllis, at length, with a deep sigh, “but 
if we could only have a dog like him! Tricksy’s 
a dear, of course, an’ I love her terribly, but she 
can’t climb up ladders an’ jump through win¬ 
dows and save people’s lives like Rinty.” There 
was a short despondent silence. 

“Maybe we could teach her,” suggested Hilda. 
“I don’t think it would be hard. She’s so smart. 
An’, anyway, we could hold a blanket under her 
while she was learning, so she wouldn’t get hurt 
in case she fell.” 

“Oh, good! Let’s start to-morrow! Won’t 
it be fun?” cried Phyllis and Sally together. 

But Mother shook her head. 

“Listen, children,” she said gravely. “You 
must not be rough with Tricksy now. She needs 


THE END OF A PERFECT DAY 69 


the best care you can give her. For some day 
soon she’s going to have a little family.” 

“What! Puppies? Oh, wonderful! How 
many, Mother? Will there be one apiece?” 
Their questions came in torrents. 

“Wait and see,” said Mother, smiling. “Come, 
now,—your prayers!” 

With shining eyes, they knelt about her knee 
and offered up their earnest supplications. 
Prayers took longer to-night: there was a new 
friend to be remembered.. 

Then came good-night kisses, and she tucked 
them in their beds. 

“Oh, Mother, such a wonderful birthday,” 
said Sally, burrowing into her pillow like a little 
mole. 

“We’ll never, never forget it,” came in drowsy 
tones from Phyllis. 

“I’m ’fwaid,” murmured Bobby in his sleep. 

Mother paused in the doorway, looking at 
them tenderly. 

“Good-night,—good-night, my darlings,” she 
said. “I love you.” 


70 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


“Good-night, Mother dear/’ they chorused 
sleepily. 

Then she snapped out the light. But as she 
turned to go, Hilda called her name. She went 
to her, and took the little groping hand. 

“What is it, dear?” she asked. 

“Mother,” whispered Hilda, “do you think,— 
if I—prayed— hard —oh, aivjully hard,—that 
maybe—one of the puppies would be—like—like 
Rinty?” Almost as she said it, she was asleep. 

“A pretty big order for poor little Tricksy,” 
thought Mother as she ran downstairs. “I won¬ 
der if she’s out in all this storm. I told Gussie 
to be sure to let her in.” 

She went to the door and opened it. A gust 
of wind-swept rain beat in upon her, drenching 
her; and then, from out the darkness, somewhere 
near her feet, a small voice said, “I want my 
mother! ” 






CHAPTER IV 


NATALIE MAKES A DECISION 

Tom Brewster, deep in the problems of a 
new detective story, was roused from his ab¬ 
sorbing deductions by a cry from the hall; and 
springing to his feet in some apprehension, found 
a real mystery confronting him. His wife stood 
in the doorway, bearing in her arms what, at 
first sight, appeared to be a large and extremely 
wet bundle of clothing. Closer inspection, how¬ 
ever, disclosed two grubby little bare legs and a 
pair of large and very frightened blue eyes. 

“Why—why, Molly,—what on earth—?” he 
stammered, eyeing the bundle in amazement. 
But as he realized what it was, he hastened to 
wheel forward an easy-chair. 

“Where did that come from?” he asked with a 
bewildered air. 


71 



72 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


“She was on the front porch, Tom,—in all this 
storm/’ answered Molly, seating herself, and 
bending for a closer view of the little face. And 
the child, with one long, questioning look into 
the compassionate brown eyes above her, snug¬ 
gled down into her lap with a deep, shuddering 
sigh. 

“Poor little thing!” said Molly Brewster. 
“She’s completely exhausted and wet to the 
skin. I must get her clothes off at once. Will 
you run upstairs, Tom, and get a nightgown out 
of Sally’s dresser and a shawl out of mine ? You 
won’t wake up the children. They’re all dead 
to the world by this time.” 

And as Tom left the room, she began to peel 
off the child’s sodden clothing, crooning softly 
to her as she did so. 

“You poor, precious darling, did you get all 
wet and frightened? Never mind, you’re quite 
safe, now. We’ll take care of you to-night, and 
in the morning, we’ll find Mother. What hap¬ 
pened, sweetheart? Did you run away?—or 
get lost?—or what?” 


NATALIE MAKES A DECISION 73 


At each of these questions, Natalie shook her 
head. 

“Can’t you tell me how you got here?” Molly 
persisted gently. 

“I—I—I walked,” said Natalie, in a small, 
trembling voice. 

“Where from, baby girl?” 

Natalie’s chin began to quiver. “Over there,” 
she answered vaguely, waving one arm in an 
indefinite gesture. “A long—long way,—an’ it 
rained,—an’ I was frightened.” Her eyes filled 
at the thought of what she had endured. 

Molly cuddled the child close. “Well, we’re 
not going to talk about it any more to-night,” she 
said. “You’re just going to have something to 
eat, and then pop into bed; and in the morning, 
we’ll hear all about it.” 

And with these words, she took the nightgown 
from Tom, who had procured it in short order, 
and slipped it over the curly head; then wrapped 
the small body in the folds of her shawl. 

“Now, then, we’re all comfy,” she said sooth¬ 
ingly. “And in a minute we’ll have a little 


74 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


warm milk. Tom, dear, will you ask Gussie to 
heat some for us?” 

She patted the small hand as she spoke, and, 
smoothing back the yellow curls, kissed the 
tired, tear-stained little face. All the “mother” 
in her yearned over the pathetic little creature. 

“You’re somebody’s darling,” she said to her¬ 
self, “I wonder whose.” 

And Natalie, comforted both in mind and 
body, relaxed her little form and closed her 
weary eyes. 

A few moments later, Tom returned from his 
errand to the kitchen, while Gussie followed close 
at his heels with a pitcher of steaming milk, a 
glass, and a plate of bread and butter. 

At sight of the child, she stopped abruptly, al¬ 
most dropping her load. 

“Lawsy me! Where dat baby-chile come 
from?” she demanded, her black eyes popping 
out. 

“We don’t know yet, Gussie,” said Molly, fill¬ 
ing the glass and holding it up to the eager lips. 

And Natalie, regarding them with fixed and 


NATALIE MAKES A DECISION 75 


solemn stare above its milky rim, drank greedily, 
unmindful of their pitying concern. 

“Bress her heart!” cried Gussie in warim 
hearted delight, gathering up the pile of wet 
garments from the floor. “She mos’ starved to 
deff, dat’s what she is. She act like she can’t 
drink fas’ enough!” 

“Don’t you want to take off her shoes and 
socks, Tom?” asked Molly as she poured another 
glassful of milk. “Then I can feed her the rest 
of this while you’re doing it. She’s so sleepy, 
poor dear, she can hardly tell where her 
mouth is.” 

“Of course I do,” responded Tom, sitting down 
on the floor and taking the small feet in his big, 
gentle hands. But when he had stripped off 
their wet coverings, he gave a low whistle. 
“Look, honey!” he cried in real distress, “just 
look at them!—They’re all blistered!” 

Molly gave one glance; then, with a catch 
in her voice, she exclaimed, “Why, you poor lit¬ 
tle soul! Where could you have been to get 
your feet like that?” Gussie, with woful 


76 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


lamentations, had started for a basin of warm 
water. 

Natalie found it good to have her face and 
hands sponged off, and to dip her feet in the warm 
suds. It took the ache and sting away as if 
by magic. She sat'watching Gussie, and listen¬ 
ing to her low-toned utterances in a thoughtful, 
though disinterested manner. 

“You po’ lid lambie! You suah done some 
walkin’. Dere, now, Gussie wash all de pain 
away. ’Twon’t nebber come no more.” 

There was something suspiciously like a tear 
in Gussie’s eye as she spoke, and when she dried 
the little feet with a soft towel, no dainty, per¬ 
fumed hands could have been more tender than 
were Gussie’s big, coarse, black ones. Kneeling 
there before the child, she gazed for some mo¬ 
ments at the lovely little face; then she said in a 
faltering voice, “Has you noticed, Mis’ Molly, 
—’scuse my speakin’ of it—but has you noticed 
how much she look lak’—lak’ li’l Jeanie?” 

“Yes, Gussie,” answered Molly, “when I first 
saw her face looking up at me out of the darkness, 


NATALIE MAKES A DECISION 77 


it was quite startling. She is like her in a good 
many ways. How strange it should be so!” 

Gussie nodded her head solemnly. “Yas- 
sum,” she said, “when I come in froo dat do’ an’ 
see her on yo’ lap,—Lawsy!—I took such a turn! 
Seemed lak’ I mus’ be dreamin’.” 

She bent closer to the child, touching the 
golden curls with reverent fingers. 

“Dere’s de same yaller hair,” she continued, 
“an’ de big blue eyes wid de long, curly eye- 
winkers, an’ de little roun’ face wid dimples in 
de cheeks.” She paused to rub a gnarled hand 
across her glistening eyes. “Yassum,—jes’ lak’ 
dat little bressed angel,” she concluded, getting 
stiffly to her feet. 

But Natalie heard none of this, for too weary 
now, even to eat, she had gone sound asleep, all 
troubles momentarily forgotten. 

Fearful lest a change might waken her, Molly, 
herself, carried the child upstairs to her own 
room, where a small cot-bed stood always ready 
in case of such emergencies as bad dreams or 
slight indispositions. But when she went to 


78 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


put her down, Natalie clung to her, crying 
piteously. 

“Don’t be afraid, sweetheart,” soothed Molly. 
“I’m not going to leave you. See, this little 
cot where you are going to sleep, is close beside 
my bed. All night I shall be right here. I’ll 
leave a light, too, so you can see me.” 

Comforted by these assurances, Natalie re¬ 
leased her. 

Rain was still falling next morning when she 
opened her eyes to an unfamiliar room. But 
after a moment of bewilderment, she discovered 
Molly Brewster by the window, sewing; and, 
like a flash, her memory of the night before re¬ 
turned. She did not stir at once, however, but 
lay there watching Molly, and puzzling her lit¬ 
tle brain as to who this kind new friend might 
be. The pleasant face, smooth brown hair 
coiled loosely in her neck, trim white linen dress 
and spotless shoes, stirred vagrant recollections. 

“Are you a nurse?” she asked. 

Molly jumped to her feet and hurried to the 
bedside. “I didn’t know you were awake,” she 


NATALIE MAKES A DECISION 79 


cried, bending over her. “No, Fm not a nurse. 
Do you think I look like one?” 

Natalie regarded her soberly. “You look like 
Miss Briggs,” she said after a moment. 

“Was Miss Briggs your nurse?” asked Molly. 

Natalie shook her head vigorously. “No,” 
she answered, “I wasn’t sick. Mother was. 
She had the flu, an’ she was in bed, an’ I couldn’t 
even see her.” 

Molly sat down on the edge of the bed and 
lifted the little girl onto her lap. 

“Well, now,” she said, “first off, we’re going 
to get dressed and have our breakfast, and after 
that we can hear all about Mother and— every¬ 
thing.” She paused to laugh lightly, and then 
added, “We don’t even know each other’s names, 
yet, do we? Mine is Mrs. Brewster. Will you 
tell me yours?” 

“Natalie,” replied the child. 

“That’s a pretty name,” said Molly, “but 
what’s the rest of it?” 

Natalie pondered the question seriously. 
Finally she said, “That’s all, ’cept Miss Natalie.” 


80 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


“You darling!” Molly gave her a gentle 
squeeze; then setting her down, she bustled 
into the adjoining bathroom and began to run 
the water for her bath. 

“Do you know, dear,” she said when it was 
ready, “there are four children downstairs who 
are just dying to see you. Do you think you’d 
like to play with them?” 

“I don’t know,” responded Natalie. “Are 
they nice?” 

“Well, I think they are,” smiled Molly. “And 
I hope you will, too.” 

“Once I played with some little girls in the 
park,” said Natalie, her eyes sparkling at the 
remembrance. “They were awful dirty, but 
I didn’t care. I like dirty children. Are the 
children downstairs dirty?” 

“Not just this minute,” replied Molly. “But 
an hour from now I presume they’ll all look like 
little pigs.” 

“Oh,” cried Natalie, hugging herself ex¬ 
citedly, “I want to play an’ get all dirty, too! 
Dirt’s nice, but mud’s more nicer.” 


NATALIE MAKES A DECISION 81 


“What a dear, quaint, funny little thing!” was 
Molly’s thought as, slipping off the child’s night¬ 
dress, she carried her to the bathroom and set 
her in the tub. The child had a beautiful body, 
flawless, save for a single blemish, a mark like a 
small, red clover-leaf, on her left arm just below 
the shoulder. 

“What’s this, dear?” asked Molly, touching it 
gently. “Did you hurt yourself?” 

Natalie craned her neck to see; then she 
laughed. “That’s not a hurty-spot,” she an¬ 
swered in amusement. “Dulcie said—” she 
checked herself, reluctant to continue; for, in 
the midst of such satisfying realities, Dulcie 
and all that she stood for, had, momentarily, 
faded from her mind. She glanced furtively at 
Molly who, sensing some trouble, yet thinking 
best to ignore it, went on soaping her back as 
if she had not heard, hoping, in this way to win 
the confidence she so much desired. 

Presently, however, she asked in a matter-of- 
fact voice, “What was it you were telling me 
that Dulcie said?” 


82 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


The tone was reassuring. 

“Dulcie said it was where the stork bit me,” 
replied Natalie. 

“And whoisDulcie? Your sister?” 

Natalie’s face clouded. It was plain to see 
the subject was not a pleasing one. 

“No,” she said shortly. Then, in a sudden 
burst of anger, as unexpected as it was vehe¬ 
ment, she cried, “Dulcie told a lie! She’s bad! 
I hate her!” 

“Here is something that needs looking into,” 
said Molly to herself. 

But she did not press Natalie with further 
questions. Instead, she kissed the little wrath¬ 
ful, trembling lips, and remarked quietly, “Well, 
we won’t talk about her any more, not now, at 
any rate. See, here are all your own clothes that 
Gussie has washed and ironed.” For Gussie, 
with warm-hearted zeal, had arisen betimes, in 
order to perform this labor of love; bringing the 
freshly laundered clothing to the bedroom door 
with the whispered comment, “She shore do be¬ 
long to quality folks, Mis’ Molly. Dere ain’t 


NATALIE MAKES A DECISION 83 


a mite o’ lace on anythin’; on’y jus’ de finest 
han’-sewin’.” 

By the time Natalie was dressed, she and 
Molly were chatting like old friends, with all 
unpleasant thoughts forgotten. Then, hand in 
hand, they hastened down to the dining-room 
where the children awaited their coming with ill- 
concealed impatience. 

Many were the questions they had found to 
ask about her; and many and wild their con¬ 
jectures as to how and whence she had come. 
Hilda’s belief was that she had escaped from gyp¬ 
sies who had kidnaped her; Phyllis suggested 
that she might have run away from an Orphan 
Asylum where, no doubt, she had been ill- 
treated; Sally had an idea that perhaps she 
had fallen from a passing automobile; while 
Bobby was strongly of the opinion that she 
had dropped from the clouds when the thunder 
came. 

“That must have been her pounding that 
Bobby spoke about when we were all singing,” 
said Hilda. 


84 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


“Why that’s a fact/’ agreed Father, “I’d for¬ 
gotten all about it.” 

“Are we going to keep her, Father?” asked 
Sally. 

“Oh, we can’t do that,” replied Father, hastily. 

“Will you put an ad. in the paper like you 
did for the pocketbook you found?” 

“I think not. We can trust her people to do 
the advertising.” 

“But s’pose they shouldn’t,—s’pose they 
didn’t want her,—would we keep her, then?” 

“Well, for a little while, at any rate.” 

“S’pose she turned out to be a princess an’ they 
offered hundreds an’ hundreds of dollars to get 
her back,” said Hilda, romantically. 

Phyllis’s eyes danced. “0 my! Then Father 
could get a new car!” she cried, charmed at the 
prospect. 

“Or Mother could get that rug she wants for 
the living-room,” interposed Hilda. 

“Maybe I could get a pony,” said Bobby, 
meditatively. 

“O-O-O-O!—I know something better yet!” 


NATALIE MAKES A DECISION 85 


Sally fairly squealed in her excitement. 
“Rinty! Maybe we could get Rinty!” 

Father laughed. “You haven’t seen the lit¬ 
tle girl, yet,” he reminded them. “When you 
do, the chances are, you’ll decide you’d rather 
have her than anything that money can buy.” 

Sally drew a long breath. “Well, I have seen 
Rinty,” she said in a voice which spoke vol¬ 
umes. 

So absorbed were the children in discussing the 
wonderful possibilities of this new idea, that 
they did not hear the approaching footsteps, 
so that Molly and Natalie were fairly in the 
room before they were aware of their coming. 

Tom saw them, however, and jumped to his 
feet. “Here she is!” he exclaimed in a tone 
of exultation. 

Four pairs of brown eyes met the blue ones 
in a gaze of frank admiration, but not a word 
was said. It was as if they all had suddenly 
been stricken dumb. In silence, Molly lifted 
Natalie into her chair and tucked a napkin un¬ 
derneath her chin. 


86 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 

“This is Natalie/’ she said, “our new little 
friend.” 

Then Sally observed with characteristic can¬ 
dor, “She looks just like Carlotta’s big French 
doll.” 

“She does, for all the world,” assented Molly, 
handing Natalie a glass of orange juice. 

“Now, children,” she continued merrily, “we’re 
all going to have a good time together for a few 
days until we find Natalie’s mother. After 
breakfast, you can take her to the playroom and 
show her your toys. We want to make her 
happy while she’s here.” 

Natalie listened gravely. Then she looked 
about her, at the cheerful, homey room, the chil¬ 
dren’s happy faces, Tricksy on the window-seat, 
and, out beyond, the blooming, rain-drenched 
garden. Then she made a definite announce¬ 
ment. 

“I’m going to stay for always she said. 


CHAPTER V 


« 


AMATEUR DETECTIVES 

Breakfast over, the children raced off to the 
playroom, each eager to do the honors; and Tom 
and Molly were left alone to talk matters over. 
They drew their chairs up to the hearth in the 
living-room, where a wood-fire crackled merrily; 
and for some moments, neither of them spoke. 
Then Molly looked at Tom, and her eyes twin¬ 
kled. 

“Well, what do you make of it, Mr. Detec¬ 
tive?” she asked. 

Tom did not respond at once to her light¬ 
hearted banter. He lighted his pipe, and set¬ 
tled himself comfortably; then he said, with a 
thoughtful pucker between his eyes, “The case 
certainly is baffling. We are handicapped from 
the very start by the fact that Natalie is too 
young to give us any definite or reliable informa- 


87 


88 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 

tion. Who she is and where she comes from 
are things we shall have to find out for our¬ 
selves. I doubt if she can help us any.” 

“No,” said Molly. “The only information I 
could get from her was very sketchy.” 

“Did you ask her where she lives?” 

“Yes, and she said, ‘Oh, lots of places. Once 
I lived by the ocean, and once I lived in a big 
boat’.” 

“H’m,” mused Tom, “her people are evidently 
travelers. What about her father? Did you 
ask about him?” 

“Yes, but you know how children are. She 
just said, ‘He went away’, and that was all there 
was to that!” 

“Has she spoken of any one at all?” 

“Well, there’s Dulcie, she seems to be afraid 
of her, and to hate her for some reason. And 
there’s a Miss Briggs who was her mother’s 
nurse; and then there’s some one else named 
Gloria.” 

“That might be a sister.” 

“I imagine so. Just after I put her to bed, 


AMATEUR DETECTIVES 


89 


she half woke up and looked about her, whimper¬ 
ing; and when I went to her, she asked where 
Gloria was.” 

“And she hasn’t referred to her at all this 
morning?” 

“No, that’s what puzzles me, her quiet ac¬ 
ceptance of us in place of her own family. It’s 
so unnatural, almost as if she had decided to 
wipe them off her slate forever.” 

“That is queer,” agreed Tom. “Especially in 
so young a child; and one who gives the im¬ 
pression of having been well cared for. Her 
manners are good, she is dressed with unusual 
taste and, in every way, has the appearance of 
a child who has been carefully trained, and is 
accustomed to the better things of life.” 

“Who do you suppose this Dulcie is?” asked 
Molly after a short silence. “Do you think she’s 
an older sister, or a playmate,—or what?” 

“Her nursemaid, I imagine. And this, to my 
mind, would indicate that her people have con¬ 
siderable means; for, in this day and generation, 
only the rich can afford the luxury of servants.” 


90 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


Molly burst out laughing. “How do you ac¬ 
count for Gussie, then?” she challenged. 

“Oh, Gussie doesn’t count, she’s more or less 
of an institution?” he replied. 

The fire burned low, and Molly took the bel¬ 
lows and, kneeling on the floor puffed it into life 
again. 

“Do you think it’s a case of kidnaping?” she 
asked, rising to her feet. 

“It seems to me the most plausible explana¬ 
tion,” replied Tom. 

“Not to me,” said Molly. “If she had been 
kidnaped, how did she get here? Why wasn’t 
she held for ransom?” 

“There might be various reasons to account 
for that,” answered Tom. “Suppose, for in¬ 
stance, this Dulcie w T ere some former maid, dis¬ 
charged for what she considered a trifling offense. 
Piqued at her dismissal, she revenges herself by 
kidnaping the child. But not being a criminal 
by nature, she gets cold feet as soon as she learns 
the penalty for a crime such as hers. And not 
daring to keep the child, nor yet return her, she 


AMATEUR DETECTIVES 


91 


gets out of her scrape in the only way which pre¬ 
sents itself; simply abandons her to her own 
resources. Doesn’t that fit in with all the facts 
as we know them?” 

Molly laughed. “A very thrilling plot, Mr. 
Detective!” she chaffed. “You should have 
been a writer of mystery stories instead of only 
a professor of history at the University.” 

She moved over on the wide arm of his 
chair, laying her cheek caressingly against his 
tousled hair; and presently she sighed, “0 dear, 
I can’t believe as you do. That would be too 
dreadful. No one, I don’t care how revengeful 
they were, could turn that darling baby out, and 
on such a night. It’s unthinkable! No, there 
is—there must be—some other explanation.” 

Tom puffed away at his pipe thoughtfully for 
a few moments; then he asked, “Why do you 
suppose she thought her mother was here?” 

“She says Dulcie told her so.” 

“Then that means that either Dulcie, herself, 
had been misinformed, or was mistaken in the 
house, or else told a deliberate falsehood.” 



92 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


Molly suddenly sat up straight, her eyes very 
bright. “Why, that must be what she meant 
when she said, ‘Dulcie told a lie’,” she exclaimed 
excitedly. 

“Exactly so/’ agreed Tom. “Well, that gives 
us a line on Dulcie. The question now is, how 
did she get here without having any one see her? 
It’s quite evident that no one did.” 

“And she must have walked so far, too,” said 
Molly, pityingly. 

“I wonder which direction she could have 
come from,” mused Tom, as if thinking aloud. 
“The Turnpike is the only good road through 
this section. To judge by the condition of her 
feet, she must have walked a considerable dis¬ 
tance before reaching our house. Now, we know 
she couldn’t have come from the direction of 
Armitage, for we were over that part of the road, 
ourselves, late in the day, and saw no signs of 
her. And beyond us, it’s a straight three miles 
to Curtiss Plains with farms on either side. 
Why wasn’t she taken in by some farmer’s wife, 
or picked up by a passing car?—The Turnpike 


AMATEUR DETECTIVES 


93 


is a State road, and at this season traffic is heavy. 
I should think some one would have seen her 
and given her a lift.” 

“It's beyond me, I must confess,” said Molly 
wearily. 

But Tom suddenly struck his knee a resound¬ 
ing whack. “I have it!” he cried exultantly, 
springing to his feet and beginning to pace, ex¬ 
citedly, up and down. “I wonder that neither 
of us thought of it before!” 

“What?” asked Molly, breathlessly. 

“The Hobbs Hollow road!” said Tom. “No¬ 
body ever uses it any more.” 

“Except Amos,” Molly reminded him. 

Tom smiled. “Oh, yes,—Amos!” he agreed. 
“He only uses it because it’s a short cut from his 
farm; and poor old Nellie is so used to it, I doubt 
if she would consent to his using any other. 
But don’t you see, dear, that would explain 
everything ? If she came by that road—and I’m 
convinced she did—there was little chance of 
anybody seeing her, and our house would have 
been the most natural one for her to come to, 


94 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


since the road runs into the Turnpike just be¬ 
yond our property.” 

Molly brooded over the theory. It certainly 
did seem practicable. But, even this idea had 
its difficulties. “How did she get on the Hobbs 
Hollow road?” she asked. “As you say, no one 
travels it. I don’t believe an automobile could. 
And how else would she get there? She must 
have been set down where the road intersects 
with another. That would be the Oldfield road, 
wouldn’t it? Well, that would explain, then, 
why she had to walk so far, for it must be three 
or four miles to that.” 

“Five,” said Tom, tersely. 

“Poor little soul, no wonder her feet were blis¬ 
tered!” cried Molly. 

Tom walked over to the window and looked 
out. The rain was still falling in a gentle drizzle. 

“Honey,” he said suddenly, “I believe I’ll go 
out and walk along that road for a couple of 
miles. I want to see if there are any traces of 
her having come that way. The rain would 
have obliterated any footprints, but I’m sort 


AMATEUR DETECTIVES 95 

of hoping I’ll find something that will prove that 
we are right.” 

Molly jumped to her feet. “I’ll go with you, 
Mr. Sleuth-hound! ” she cried gaily. “Just wait 
until I get my rain togs! ” And she ran upstairs 
to change her dress and shoes. 

Ten minutes later, the two of them, oilskin 
clad, and eager as children going adventuring, 
were picking their way over the ruts and ridges 
of the Hobbs Hollow road; scanning each drip¬ 
ping bush and miry hummock for some clue, 
however slight, which might show that the little 
wanderer had come that way. 

For a long time they found nothing,—no trace 
of any living thing, save the wild life of the fields 
and woodlands,—and had about decided to turn 
back, when, suddenly, Molly spied something 
in the road ahead, a single gay speck of color, 
flaunting itself in that drab landscape, like a 
banner leading to victory after the apparent 
hopelessness of their quest. 

With a shout of triumph, she ran and pulled 
it from the ooze in which it was imbedded, cry- 


96 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


ing as she did so, “Oh, Tom, we were right! This 
proves that she has been here!” 

Tom took the object from her and examined it 
gingerly. “What is it?” he asked. “A rag 
doll?” 

“A Lend doll,” explained Molly, “and a per¬ 
fect beauty. It must have cost all kinds of 
money, for they’re fearfully expensive.” 

“Well, I’ll have to take your word for it,” said 
Tom. “Just at present, she looks like some¬ 
thing that the cat dragged in. But let’s take her 
home and scrape off a few layers of mud, and 
then see if Natalie recognizes her.” 

And with hearts considerably lighter, they 
retraced their footsteps. 

As soon as they reached home, Molly set to 
work to clean the doll. It was a task requiring 
extraordinary skill; but Molly, through much 
practice, had become an adept in the art of con¬ 
quering mud-stains. In this instance the re¬ 
sults were far better than she had dared antici¬ 
pate, for when she had finished, the dainty 
creature seemed little the worse for her un- 


AMATEUR DETECTIVES 


97 


fortunate experience, and smiled fatuously on 
the world once more, as though well pleased 
with her restoration to respectability. 

Molly next sought the playroom, where the 
sound of happy voices told her that the chil¬ 
dren were still busy. Leaving the doll on a table 
just outside the door, she entered, smiling at the 
pleasant sight which met her eyes. 

Even on a gloomy day the room was cheerful, 
for the entire wing had been given over to it, 
so it had windows on three sides. Between these 
windows, which were curtained with gray dimity, 
ran low bookshelves and built-in toy cupboards; 
and above these hung a few good colored prints 
of such pictures as children love. Here at the 
right was Raeburn’s “Boy with a Rabbit”; just 
beyond, a sketch of squirrels by Diirer; while at 
the far end of the room hung a Jessie Wilcox 
Smith panel, entitled, “The Five Senses.” The 
walls and woodwork were a soft green; the floor 
covered with a simple-patterned green and gray 
linoleum; the furniture, small in size, and 
painted to harmonize with the woodwork. In 


98 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


one corner, stood a dolls’ house; in another, a 
battered rocking-horse held sway; while toys of 
every description, and in every stage of wear 
and tear, littered the floor in childlike confusion, 
giving the room the appearance of a disorderly, 
though extremely interesting, toy shop. 

Side by side on the window-seat at the end 
of the room, Bob and Natalie were absorbed in 
a dilapidated copy of “Mother Goose.” The 
brown head and the golden one bent close above 
its well-thumbed pages; while Bobby chanted 
the familiar words in a gentle, sing-song voice, 
following the text with one chubby forefinger 
in an absurd pretense of reading. 

With a fond glance at the artful little im¬ 
postor, Molly turned her attention to the three 
other children who, cross-legged upon the floor, 
were occupied with scissors, paste-pot, and bits 
of bright crepe paper. 

“Look, Mother!” they shouted at sight of her, 
“we’re getting a bedroom ready for Tricksy, over 
there in the corner by the dolls’ house. We’ve 
brought her basket in, and we’re making bas- 


AMATEUR DETECTIVES 


99 


sinets, so when the puppies come, they’ll have a 
place to sleep. See, we made them out of old 
shoe-boxes and some pieces of whalebone Gussie 
gave us. Aren’t they sweet?” 

They proudly displayed their handiwork: in¬ 
genious little beds with canopied tops and ruffled 
paper trimmings. 

Molly examined their work delightedly. 
“They’re just too cunning for words,” she said. 
“You’ve made them beautifully, too. I always 
love to see you do your work so well.” 

“We’ve got three all done,” said Sally, giving 
a final dab of paste to a refractory ruffle, “All, but 
the bedding, Mother, and we haven’t got any¬ 
thing to use for sheets.” 

“I think I have an old summer blanket up¬ 
stairs,” said Molly, after a moment’s reflection. 
“If that will do, you may have it to cut up.” 

“Oh, splendid! Just the thing!” cried the 
two older girls; while Sally jumped to her feet, 
exclaiming, “Where is it? I’ll run and get it! 
Shall I, Mother?” 

“No,” answered Molly, amused at her eager- 


100 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


ness. “Ill have to look it up. But, before I 
do, I have a little surprise. Come here, all of 
you.” And stepping back into the hall, she 
picked up the doll. 

“See what Father and I found out on the 
Hobbs Hollow road!” she said, holding it up 
before their wondering eyes. 

Before the words had left her lips, or the chil¬ 
dren could express their amazement, there was 
a cry from Natalie. “It’s Gloria!” she cried, 
her face fairly radiant; and snatching the doll 
from Molly’s hands, she clasped it to her bosom, 
kissing it and crooning over it in a rapture of 
delight. “My darling, darling Gloria,” she mur¬ 
mured, “did you get lost out in the rain? An’ 
did you think I’d gone away and left you? An’ 
did you miss me?” Then, turning to the chil¬ 
dren, she said, with a sorrowful shake of her 
head, “I wanted her awfully much all night; but 
she wasn’t there at all.” 

Molly knelt down on the floor beside her, and 
gathered child and doll into her motherly arms. 
“Now, sweetheart,” she said gently, “don’t you 


AMATEUR DETECTIVES 101 

want to tell us how you and Gloria got away out 
there on that road all by yourselves?” 

The children moved nearer, an interested 
circle. 

“ ’Way out on the Hobbs Hollow road?” Phyl¬ 
lis exclaimed incredulously, “Why, Natalie, 
that’s ever’n ever so far. Sometimes, Mother 
lets us drive out there with Amos to pick ber- 

• 77 

nes. 

Above Gloria’s tangled curls, Natalie surveyed 
them soberly. “It was a far way,” she stated 
with the conviction of one whose wisdom has 
been gained through sad experience. “I walked, 
an’ walked, an’ walked, an’ I tried to find my 
mother, but she wasn’t anywhere . An’ I was 
hot an’ tired, an’ I got awful hungry; an’ then 
the thunder came, an’ I cried, but nobody heard 
me. Not nobody ”, she repeated with an em¬ 
phatic shake of her head. “An’ pretty soon it got 
dark, an’ then I came to this house, an’ then I 
wasn’t scared any more at all.” She looked at 
them impressively. It was plain that she en¬ 
joyed the recital of her woes. 


102 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


“Bless your dear heart/’ said Molly, kissing 
her. 

Natalie nestled close. “I like this house/’ 
she said confidingly, “I want to live here.” 

Molly gave her a hearty squeeze. “But you 
forgot to tell us how you got on that road,” she 
persisted. “Did you ride there in a car?” 

Natalie nodded. “It was a big green car,” 
she told them gravely. “It went awful fast, an' 
I was scared. Dulcie w T as scared, too. She told 
him he mustn’t go so fast. She said we would 
be ’rested.” 

“Told whom?” questioned Molly, eagerly. 

“Why—why, the man—the man with red 
hair,” said Natalie. Tears welled up into her 
big blue eyes as the memory of that experience 
returned. She laid her head upon Molly’s shoul¬ 
der, and began to sob. “He was a bad man,” she 
wailed. “He was cross, an’ he said bad words, 
an’ he called me a—a b-brat.” 

Molly held the little shaking form close, while 
the children hovered about with shocked faces 
and loud expressions of sympathy. 


AMATEUR DETECTIVES 


103 


“It would serve him right if he did get ar¬ 
rested/’ declared Phyllis hotly. 

“An’ sent to prison/’ added Sally. 

Bobby was strongly in favor of personal vio¬ 
lence as the only fitting penalty; while Hilda, 
too overcome for words, at the sight of Natalie’s 
grief, could only stroke her hand and try to 
wipe her tears away. 

Then Molly, realizing that any further ques¬ 
tioning at this time would be useless, rose quickly 
to her feet. 

“Hark!” she exclaimed, “the old clock’s strik¬ 
ing twelve! Something tells me Gussie has 
made gingerbread for lunch. Can you smell 
it? Now, while you go and wash your hands, 
I’ll try to find that blanket.” 

And amid shrieks of laughter, she raced them 
up the stairs. 


CHAPTER VI 


NEWS FROM UNCLE RODDY 

Sometime in the night the rain stopped, and 
the morning broke bright and cool, with a gentle 
breeze, and that freshness and sparkle which so 
often follow a drenching rain. It was, indeed, 
as Bobby remarked between mouthfuls of cereal, 
“a boofully day.” 

After the sun and wind had dried things up a 
bit, the children climbed up into the bower to 
play. This was a fenced-in platform about ten 
feet square, built on the low, wide-spreading 
limbs of an old apple tree in the side yard. A 
long flight of steps led up to it; and here, as safe 
and snug as birds in a nest, they were wont to 
spend many happy hours. 

Hilda and Phyllis took their sewing-kits, for 
the bedding had yet to be made for the bassinets 


104 


NEWS FROM UNCLE RODDY 105 


before they would be ready for their expected 
occupants. Sally, who was rather inclined to 
shirk, had left the making of her bedclothes to 
the two older girls, and was now busy blowing 
soap-bubbles with Bob and Natalie. A pan of 
suds stood on a bench conveniently near the 
railing so that, as fast as the bubbles were made, 
the children could throw them out over the 
edge and watch them float across the lawn, where 
Tricksy, with ears alert and stumpy tail wag¬ 
ging, stood waiting to give chase. She found 
a weird fascination in these strange balls which, 
the moment she was sure she had them, vanished, 
leaving nothing but an unpleasant taste behind. 

“I’m going to blow a big, big, BIG one and 
send it ’way across the ocean to Uncle Roddy,” 
announced Sally as she dipped her pipe in the 
frothy mixture. “P’raps it’ll tell him we miss 
him an’ want him to come home.” 

The two little ones, charmed with the fancy, 
watched her as with cheeks distended, she blew 
and blew until the wavering, iridescent sphere 
was nearly the size of her head. Then with a 


106 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


flip of the hand she set it free, and the wayward 
breeze, seizing the pretty plaything, sent it 
skimming through the tree-tops and out over the 
hedge into the Turnpike beyond. For a mo¬ 
ment it seemed to hang there, motionless; then 
—pouff!—and it was gone! 

“I don’t know whether it really went, or 
whether it just busted,” said Sally as they 
strained their eyes to see. “But wasn’t it a 
beauty?” 

“I want to blow a big one, too,” said Bobby, 
whose efforts, thus far, had been futile. “I want 
to make a big one like yours, Sally.” 

But Sally, engrossed in teaching Natalie the 
art of bubble-blowing, paid no heed to his plain¬ 
tive remark; and so he set to work again, blow¬ 
ing with all the strength of his small body, but 
all to no avail. 

“They all bweak,” he said, dejectedly, after 
another series of failures. 

“P’raps you blow too hard, Bobs,” said Phyl¬ 
lis over her shoulder. 

Bobby tried once more, but with no better 


'NEWS FROM UNCLE RODDY 107 


result; then his feelings got the better of him. 
“DARN!” he shrieked at the top of his lungs, 
his face distorted with anger. And, for lack of 
stronger expression, he hurled his pipe to the 
floor, where it broke into fragments. 

“Bobby Brewster!” cried the two older girls, 
aghast; while Sally, roused to attention at last, 
said, “Now you’ve done it!—Now you can’t blow 
any more bubbles!” 

Bobby regarded his shattered treasure rue¬ 
fully; then he burst into tears. “Nobody would 
show me how,” he wailed. “An’ I wanted to 
make a big one.” 

Hilda put her arms about him. “Don’t cry, 
Bobsy,” she said, comfortingly, “Praps Sally 
will let you use her pipe. Now, you must try 
again and, this time, remember to blow very 
gently.” 

Sally handed over her pipe reluctantly, taking 
occasion, as she did so, to remark severely, “You 
don’t deserve to have it, ’cause you said a bad 
word,—you swore!” 

Bobby looked uncomfortable. Such conduct 


108 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


as his certainly called for some sort of ex¬ 
planation. 

“That wasn’t a swear/’ he said after a rather 
weighty silence, “that was on’y just a p’etend 
swear.” 

But his explanation fell on deaf ears, for Sally 
had turned her attention to Natalie once more. 

“Now you blow one, Natalie,” she was saying, 
“an’ send it to your mother. Then it can tell 
her where you are an’ she can come an’ find you.” 

Natalie laid down her pipe. “No,” she said 
vehemently, “No—I don’t want her to find me.” 

“Why not?” 

“ ’Cause she would take me back.” 

Sally’s eyes opened wide. “Why don’t you 
want to go back?” she asked. 

“ ’Cause I—I don’t have any one to play with.” 

“What did you do all day?” 

“Walked in the park an’ fed the squirrels.” 

“Is that all?” 

Natalie pondered. “Sometimes went to the 
beach an’ dug in the sand,” she said at length. 

“But when you were in the park, couldn’t you 


NEWS FROM UNCLE RODDY 109 


play around on the grass an’ in the bushes, an’ 
have a good time that way?” 

“No,—I had to be careful not to get my dress 
dirty.” 

“0 my goodness!” exclaimed Sally with ready 
sympathy, “I wouldn’t like that, either. Car- 
lotta has to keep all dressed up, too. She has 
to think about her clothes all the time. But 
Mother lets us wear khaki in the morning; then 
we can get as dirty as we please. Mother says 
she likes to see us dirty, ’cause then she knows 
we’ve been having a good time.” 

Their conversation, at this point, was inter¬ 
rupted by loud cries from Bobby. “Lookit!” 
he squealed, his voice tense with excitement, 
“Lookit!—quick— quick , eve’ybody,— before it 
bweaks!” 

“O my!” breathed Sally in an awestruck 
whisper, “it’s the biggest one yet. Look, girls! 
Look at Bob’s bubble! Isn’t it a whopper?” 

“I knew you could do it, Bobs!” cried Hilda. 

Bobby’s face was radiant with the joy of 
achievement. “I wish Muvver could see it,” he 



110 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


said wistfully, as they all gazed, spellbound, at 
the lovely, quivering thing. 

“Better let it go, Bobs, or it’ll bust,” advised 
Sally. 

Bobby flourished his arm, and the bubble 
floated away,—up, up, up,—dancing, scintillat¬ 
ing in the sunlight. 

“You didn’t say who it was going to,” said 
Natalie in a disappointed tone. 

“Say it, quick, Bobs,—quick, before it’s gone! ” 
yelled Sally. 

“To Jeanie!” cried Bobby, leaning far out and 
gazing up into the blue, where the bubble was 
still visible. 

For a moment no one spoke. A cloud seemed 
to have come over the four faces which, until 
then, had been shining. Natalie looked from 
one to another in surprise. 

“Who’s Jeanie?” she asked. 

“Uncle Roddy’s little girl,” answered Sally in 
a muffled voice. “That’s her room where 
Mother let you sleep last night.” 

“Where is she?” asked Natalie. 




NEWS FROM UNCLE RODDY 111 


The children turned their heads away. It was 
plain, none of them wished to answer. 

“Where is she?” repeated Natalie, with grow¬ 
ing impatience. 

Bobby laid down his pipe and took a deep 
breath. “Little Cousin Jeanie,” he said, look¬ 
ing about helplessly as if searching for the proper 
words, “she—she got hurted,— awful. An’— 
an’—an’ God took her.” He looked at Natalie 
with wide and solemn eyes. 

i 

Sally’s chin began to quiver. Hilda’s eyes 
were brimming, and she said in a trembling voice, 
“But we pretend she’s here just the same. Then 
we don’t feel so bad about it.” 

“She always loved to play hide-and-seek,” put 
in Phyllis, “An’ so we make believe she’s only 
hiding from us now. She used to find such ducky 
hiding-places, didn’t she? ’Member the time 
she crawled ’way under the back steps, and Un¬ 
cle Roddy had to take a board off to get her 
out?” 

They all laughed at the happy recollection. 

“An’ sometimes,” she continued, “if we sit 





112 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


and listen hard , we’re almost sure we hear her 
calling, ‘COOP!’, the way she used to. Hark! 
P’raps we can hear her, now.” 

They shut their eyes, and cupped their hands 
behind their ears, but the only sound that came 
to them above the twittering of birds, was the 
crunch of wheels on the gravel drive. And peep¬ 
ing down from their leafy bower, they saw and 
recognized a friend. 

“It’s Amos!” they shrieked, dropping every¬ 
thing and racing down the stairway. “Come 
on! Let’s get some apples for Nellie! ” 

Natalie, hand in hand with Hilda and Phyllis, 
was surprised to discover in Amos the strange 
old man she had met on the Hobbs Hollow road. 
She felt, now, upon seeing him once more, as 
if he were, indeed, an old friend; and jumped 
about and made as much fuss over him and his 
horse as any of the other children. As for Amos, 
after looking at her in a puzzled way for a mo¬ 
ment, he suddenly gave his thigh a slap and 
cried in amazement, “Bless my stars! If it ain’t 
little sissy! ” And to the children’s utter aston- 


NEWS FROM UNCLE RODDY 113 


ishment, he straightway stuck out his tongue at 
her, laughing heartily as he did so. 

Natalie returned his look, gravely,—he cer¬ 
tainly was the queerest man she had ever seen, 
—then, quick as a flash, out came her small red 
tongue, while her eyes danced with mischief. 

“Oh, Natalie, that’s not nice at all,” said 
Hilda in a shocked voice. 

“It’s bad, awful bad,” added Bobby in reprov¬ 
ing tones. 

But Natalie was not squelched. “We always 
stick out our tongues at each other,” she ex¬ 
plained importantly. “Don’t we, Amos?” 

“Yes-surree,” responded Amos gravely, 
though his bright blue eyes were twinkling. 
“Now I come to think of it, ever since I’ve 
knowed ye, we been a-doin’ it. Yes sir!” 

He got down, lumberingly, from his high seat, 
asking as he looked about him, “Where’s your 
ma?” 

“Mother’s in the kitchen, canning strawber¬ 
ries,” said Phyllis. “I’ll go tell her you’re here. 
It won’t take me but a minute.” 


114 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


So saying, she ran down the drive towards the 
rear of the house until she came to the summer- 
kitchen, through whose open windows came an 
enticing fruity smell. 

“Mother,” she called, “Mother, Amos is here. 
He wants to see you.” 

Molly came to the door in a blue linen smock, 
her cheeks as pink as the berries she was canning. 

“Good morning, Amos!” she called with a 
wave of her big wooden spoon. “I’ll be with 
you directly.” And in a moment she came out 
carrying a plate of molasses cookies, fresh from 
the oven. 

“Gussie just baked these. Let’s all have 
some,” she said, passing them around. 

“Thankye ma’am,” said Amos, taking one 
and biting into it with relish. Then, between 
munches, he explained his errand. 

“I was jest over to Armitage with a load o’ 
cabbages,” he said, “an’ as I come past the tele¬ 
graph orfice, Mis’ Harmon, the operator, come 
runnin’ out an’ hollers at me an’ wants to know 
am I goin’ home. I tells her ‘Yes’, so then she 


NEWS FROM UNCLE RODDY 115 


asts me will I bring you this here telegram, an’ 
save her the bother o’ ’phonin’.” 

He began to search through his numerous 
pockets with a rather doubtful air, which in¬ 
creased as no telegram was forthcoming. 

“Now, where in Sam Hill did I put that 
thing?” he muttered, scratching his head in per¬ 
plexity, and going around to the back of his cart 
to look under some burlap bags he had there. 
Then, suddenly, a bit of yellow paper protrud¬ 
ing from under the battered leather seat-cushion 
caught his eye, and with a grunt of satisfaction, 
he pounced upon it eagerly. 

“Here ’tis, ma’am,” he said, handing it to her. 

Molly tore open the envelope with fingers that 
trembled slightly. Telegrams always made her 
nervous; but in this instance there was no cause 
for alarm, and her face brightened as she read 
the message. 

“Oh, children,” she cried happily, “it’s a 
radiogram from Uncle Roddy. His ship docks 
to-morrow. He’ll be here Friday afternoon.” 

“Hooray! Hooray!” they shrieked, dancing 


116 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


up and down. “Uncle Roddy! Uncle Roddy! 
How wonderful to have him home! ” 

“Will he bwing me a pwesent?” asked Bobby 
in an eager voice. 

“Oh, Bobby! That’s all you think of— 
presents /” exclaimed Phyllis in disgust. 

“Well, I don’t care. I like to get pwesents,” 
replied Bobby, unabashed. “An’ I like Uncle 
Roddy, ’cause he always bwings ’em.” 

“Shame on you,” said Phyllis; while Sally 
added with a sanctimonious air, “I’d love Uncle 
Roddy if he never brought me anything ” 

“So would I,” said Hilda warmly. “I love the 
way he always takes our faces between his hands 
when he kisses us.” 

“An’ I love the way he sings,” added Phyllis. 
“When he sings ‘Danny Deever’, don’t it make 
us shiver, though?” 

“O-o-o-h!” they all quavered, hugging them¬ 
selves delightedly. 

“Well I love him ’cause he’s my uncle,” an¬ 
nounced Sally, in a matter-of-fact manner, as 
if there were nothing further to be said. 


NEWS FROM UNCLE RODDY 117 


Phyllis snorted. “I wouldn’t care whose un¬ 
cle he was/’ she retorted, “Carlotta’s or—or 
Maudie May’s,—I’d love him just the same.” 

“If he was Maudie May’s uncle, he’d be all 
brack like Maudie May,” observed Bobby, 
wisely. 

“Well, even if he was,” replied Phyllis, “he’d 
be nice, just the same.” 

And with this, they all scampered off to get 
some clover for Nellie. 

Molly and Amos stood looking after them. 
“They’re a fine bunch, ma’am,” said Amos, “a 
fine bunch. But I didn’t rightly sense that the 
little gal belonged here.” 

“Why,—have you seen her before?” asked 
Molly quickly. 

“Yes ma’am,—over on the Hobbs Holler road, 
a few days since.” 

Molly’s eyes sparkled. “Tell me about it, 
Amos,” she begged. 

Amos scratched his ear meditatively. “Well, 
let’s see, now,” he began. “Must ha’ been last 
Monday I seen her. I remember, ’cause that 


118 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


was the day the ‘Yaller Jackets’ played the ‘Hor¬ 
nets’, over to Armitage, an’ a grand game it was, 
ma’am, too. I was drivin’ along the Hobbs 
Holler road, ’bout a mile this side o’ where it 
crosses the road to Oldfield, an’ I see this little 
gal—little sissy, I calls her—a settin’ by the 
roadside. There wa’n’t no older folks about, 
an’, thinks I, she’s lost, mebbe; though, to tell 
the truth, ma’am, she seemed as chipper as a 
lark, not a bit scart, nor nothin’. So I stops an’ 
offers her a lift, but she shakes her head; then 
I asts her where she lives, an’ if she was a-visitin’ 
round about, but she won’t give me no answer. 
An’ so I figgers that her folks must be some- 
wheres near, so I druv on.” 

Molly then told him how they had found 
Natalie on their doorstep Monday night during 
the big rainstorm, and Amos listened attentively, 
clucking his tongue against his teeth, from time 
to time, to show his sympathy. 

“Dear me suz,” he said, when she had finished, 
“an’ to think I passed her by, an’ I could ha’ 
brung her along as well as not, poor little sissy! 


NEWS FROM UNCLE RODDY 119 


Dear, dear! What will Sabina say?” He 
paused in dismay at the prospect of his wife’s 
certain disapproval. “An’ ye say ye don’t know 
where she lives, nor who her folks are, nor noth¬ 
in’?” he continued after a short silence. 

“No; my husband got all the papers yester¬ 
day, thinking he might see some mention of 
her, and is going to get them again this afternoon. 
But there was nothing in any of them about 
either a lost child or a stolen one; and this is the 
third day. I must confess, I don’t understand it 
at all. It seems almost as if they didn’t want 
her, and yet, it’s hard to think that there are 
such people in the world, Amos.” 

Amos seemed lost in contemplation of a pair 
of chipmunks chasing each other around the 
trunk of a tree near by. “Yes,” he answered 
slowly, “but there’s a heap o’ mighty strange 
critters walkin’ about the earth that calls their - 
selves ’umans. I’ve took notice o’ that, ma’am. 
An’ they may have their uses, same as mosquiters 
an’ pole-cats has theirs; but we’d all be jest as 
happy if they wa’n’t here.” And having deliv- 


120 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


ered himself of this speech, he climbed heavily 
up over the wheel of his cart, and picked up the 
reins. 

“Anybody round here want a ride?” he asked, 
apparently of the tree-tops, as the children came 
trooping back with a supply of clover that would 
have kept Nellie happy for a week. 

“Oh, Mother, may we go?” they begged. 

“Well, not too far. It’s almost lunch time, 
now, you know.” 

So, cutting short their attentions to Nellie, 
whose fat sides were already bulging with their 
generous donations, they scrambled up into the 
back of the cart; all but Bobby, who insisted 
upon going up over the wheel as Amos did, and, 
with some assistance from Molly, proudly 
perched himself at Amos’s side and, seizing the 
reins, began to flap them up and down, yelling, 
“Git-ap, Nellie! Git-ap!” 

But Nellie refused to stir. Except for rolling 
a surprised and inquiring eye over her shoulder 
to see what sort of strange, boisterous creature 
was attached to the other end of her reins, she 


NEWS FROM UNCLE RODDY 121 


remained as motionless as the wooden horse in 
front of the Armitage Hardware Store. Bobby 
flapped harder and yelled louder, but still she 
did not budge. Then Amos clucked softly and, 
at that, she gave a sudden, skittish jump which 
nearly sent them off their balance, and set them 
all to squealing. And they clattered away down 
the drive, with such oft-repeated, shrill good¬ 
byes you would have thought their absence was 
to be measured by months instead of minutes. 

When she had waved them out of sight, Molly 
returned to the kitchen and finished her can¬ 
ning; and when the last rosy jar had been sealed 
and put in a row with the others on a shelf in 
the preserve closet, she went in search of Tom, to 
tell him the news. 

She found him in the garden, staking up the 
cosmos, whose tall, feathery stalks had been 
pretty well beaten down by Monday’s storm. 

“What do you think?” she called as she drew 
near, “Amos has just been telling me that he saw 
Natalie on Monday, over near the road to 
Oldfield.” 


122 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


“Pretty good detective work, I’ll say,” was 
Tom’s reply. “I could tell by your walk, when 
I saw you coming, that there was something in 
the air.” 

He left his work, and they sat down together 
on a little rustic bench under a trellis of honey¬ 
suckle. The air about them was fragrant with 
the scent of the yellow blossoms. 

“Oh, but it wasn’t that, Tom,” responded 
Molly quickly, “though, to be sure, it is good to 
have Amos’s corroboration of our theory. But 
look! Look what he brought!” And she thrust 
the telegram into his hand. 

As Tom read, it was plain the message pleased 
him. “Fine!” he cried when he had finished. 
“Won’t it be good to have him back again? I 
didn’t know he was planning to return so soon.” 

“Neither did I,” said Molly, her face lighting 
up with joyful anticipation; then it grew wistful 
as she added with an effort, “I do hope it means 
he is beginning to get over dear little Jean’s 
death.” Her voice shook as she spoke the well¬ 
loved name, and she continued in a faltering 


NEWS FROM UNCLE RODDY 123 


voice, “It has been so dreadful—all these months 
—for him to be away off there—alone—with his 
heartache. I couldn’t bear to think of it.” 
Her eyes filled with sudden tears. 

“But you must remember that Rod has lots of 
friends in Paris, dear,” said Tom, taking her 
hand. 

“Yes, I know. But that’s not like having 
your own people when you’re in trouble,” Molly 
answered. “Of course, now he’s interested in 
writing this play, and that must be a big help; 
for there’s nothing in the world like keeping busy 
when you’re trying to forget.” 

“It was the wisest thing he could have done,” 
declared Tom, “to get away from all this into a 
new environment. Here, everything reminded 
him of her.” 

“That’s true,” agreed Molly sadly, and for a 
few moments, silence fell between them. 

“Poor boy,” she murmured presently, almost 
as if speaking to herself, “it’s going to be so hard 
for him to come back and not find her watching 
for him at the window. She did adore her daddy 




124 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


so!—Sometimes I think if she had died of an 
illness, he might not have taken it so hard. But, 
even though it was no fault of his, he will never 
cease to blame himself for her death, since he 
was driving the car when the accident occurred. 
If only Ann could have lived!” she cried, trying 
to blink back her tears, “but for him to lose her 
when Jeanie came, and then to lose Jean like 
this! Oh, it’s too hard,—too hard!” She fell 
to weeping quietly. 

“Yes, it is hard,” said Tom with a deep breath. 
“His one ewe lamb.” 

Molly pressed her hand against her lips to stop 
their trembling before she continued, “I shall 
never forget the look on his face when he said to 
me,—‘I’ve killed her!’ Sometimes in the night 
I wake up and—and see it.” 

Tom’s arm was around her in an instant. 
“Dear heart,” he whispered, “we all loved her. 
She was like one of our very own.” 

After a moment, Molly sat up straight and 
mopped her eyes. “I’m so in hopes this play 
he’s writing may be a success,” she said. “He 


NEWS FROM UNCLE RODDY 125 


seems so wrapped up in it that if it should be, 
it might give him a fresh interest in life.” 

“I have great faith in Rod’s ability,” responded 
Tom, heartily. “Anything he puts his heart into 
is bound to succeed.” 

Molly started to reply, but at this point, their 
conversation was interrupted by loud shouts for 
“Mother!” 

“That sounds like our roughneck crew,” re¬ 
marked Tom, gazing in the direction whence the 
sounds arose. “Yes, here they come! Let’s 
hide!” 

“Let’s!” cried Molly gaily; and as the shouts 
drew nearer, they vanished into the shrubbery. 

It was Bobby who finally discovered their 
hiding-place and, crowing triumphantly, dragged 
them forth. Then they all stretched them¬ 
selves full-length upon the grass under the grape- 
arbor, while the children recounted the incidents 
of their trip with Amos. 

“When I get to be a big man,” said Bobby in 
conclusion, “I’m goin’ to be just like Amos, an’ 
have a horse like Nellie.” 


126 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


Phyllis burst out laughing. “Oh, Bobs,” she 
gurgled, “won’t you look funny with a long, gray 
beard!” 

Bobby felt of his chin reflectively, as if, al¬ 
ready, he could feel the whiskers sprouting. 
“Amos don’t look funny,” he said, “an’ he’s the 
nicest man in the whole world.” 

“ ’Cept Uncle Roddy,” put in Sally. 

“An’ Father,” added loyal Hilda. 

Tom bowed with mock solemnity. “Thank 
you,” he said, “thank you, ladies. I appreciate 
the honor of being included in the illustrious 
triumvirate.” 

The children looked at each other sheepishly, 
not fully understanding what he meant. 

“I don’t know what that is,” said Bobby. 
“You say it for us, Muvver.” 

But Molly jumped to her feet, laughing. 
“Don’t mind him, dears,” she cried, “he’s only 
trying to be funny!” 


CHAPTER VII 


OVER AT CARLOTTA’s 

While they were at lunch a half-hour later, 
Molly was called to the telephone and, after 
a rather lengthy conversation, announced as she 
reseated herself at the table, that Mrs. Smith 
had invited the children to come over that af¬ 
ternoon to play with Carlotta. 

“Oh, good!” they cried, entranced with the 
idea. “Can we go right after lunch?” 

“I think it would be better to wait till about 
three,” said Molly. “That will give Bob and 
Natalie time for their naps; and it’s so warm that 
you older children might lie down for a little 
while, also. I’ll read to you, if you like. Per¬ 
haps we can finish ‘The Prince and the Pauper’.” 

All agreed that this would be a satisfactory 
arrangement; so when lunch was over, they went 
upstairs to their big, airy bedroom, dim and cool 

127 


128 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


with its close-drawn shades; and getting into 
their nightclothes, the older children stretched 
themselves on quilts upon the floor, while the 
two little ones were put to bed. Then Molly, 
looking scarcely more than a child, herself, in 
her dainty negligee, with her hair in two long 
braids, curled up on a chaise-longue near one 
of the open windows, and for an hour or more 
read aloud, while the younger ones, soothed by 
the pleasant sound of her voice, slumbered peace¬ 
fully, and the older ones listened, spellbound, 
to the story of the romantic career of a certain 
Tom Canty of Offal Court. 

Next came baths, after which they were all 
freshly dressed in white, even Natalie, for Molly 
had resurrected an outgrown frock of Sally’s 
which, with a tuck or two, just fitted her. 

“Doesn’t she look adorable, Mother?” cried 
Phyllis, when her toilet was completed; and 
Hilda, throwing both arms about the little girl, 
exclaimed impulsively, “Oh, Natalie, I wish you 
were our own, own little sister.” 

“I am,” Natalie replied, her chubby arms 


OVER AT CARLOTTA’S 


129 


clasping Hilda’s neck, “an’ you are my sister, an’ 
so is Sally, an’ Phyllis, too.” 

“An’ me” put in Bobby, pushing himself in 
amongst them. “Me, too, Natty.” Whereat 
they all laughed loudly, calling him a “little 
girly-girl,” an epithet to which he strenuously 
objected. 

Then Father called up to ask if they were 
ready to start; so they all ran downstairs, chat¬ 
tering like magpies, and piled into the car and 
were driven away. 

Carlotta was waiting for them on the steps, 
dancing up and down with impatience; and as 
soon as they alighted, she conducted them to 
the sun-parlor, where her mother was waiting 
to receive them. After their greetings were 
over, Mrs. Smith fixed her eyes upon Natalie 
with undisguised interest. Ever since her tele¬ 
phone conversation with Molly that morning, 
she had been consumed with curiosity to see 
what the child was like. 

“So this is the little girl!” she remarked, look¬ 
ing her over so critically that, young as she was, 


130 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


Natalie felt decidedly uncomfortable. She tried 
to get behind Hilda, away from those dreadful, 
searching eyes. 

“She’s a pretty little thing,” continued Mrs. 
Smith, turning to Tom and speaking quite as 
if Natalie were not present, “and I can under¬ 
stand why Mrs. Brewster would hesitate about 
turning her over to the authorities. But—” 
she lowered her voice discreetly,—“do you think 
it quite wise , Mr. Brewster, to let her associate 
so freely with your children? After all, you 
know nothing whatever about her.” 

Tom threw back his head and laughed. 
“Why, you have only to look at her, Mrs. 
Smith,—” he began, but that lady, somewhat 
nettled by his laughter, cut him short. 

“Oh, she looks harmless enough, I admit, but 
you never can tell! Now, if it were my kiddy 
who was to be thrown with her so intimately, I 
should feel that I must be careful, very care¬ 
ful. They’re so impressionable, you know. Of 
course I don’t want you to think I mind her com¬ 
ing here this afternoon,—that’s quite all right, 


OVER AT CARLOTTA’S 


131 


I assure you; but you must admit it is extremely 
odd, her coming to you as she did and on such a 
dreadful night. Has it ever occurred to you 
that she might have been—ah— planted?” 

Tom looked completely mystified. “Planted?” 
he echoed blankly. 

“Yes,” said Mrs. Smith. “One reads so much 
in the papers nowadays about these society bur¬ 
glars ; and it’s a well-known fact that they’ll go 
to almost any lengths to gain admittance to a 
house. This child is plenty big enough to slip 
down at night and unfasten a door or a window. 
Now, if she had come here, I must confess, I 
should feel decidedly uneasy.” Her glance 
wandered complacently over the formal elegance 
surrounding her. Mrs. Smith’s house always 
reminded Tom of the model rooms displayed in 
a department store. He found himself half ex¬ 
pecting to discover price-tags dangling from the 
backs of the furniture. 

“You think, then, that she’s a little female 
‘Oliver Twist’?” he asked. “No, Mrs. Smith, 
such an idea never occurred to either of us. 


132 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


And, even if it had, we have nothing, aside from 
a few antiques which it would be rather difficult 
to remove, that is of any particular value, ex¬ 
cept, of course, the children.” 

He spoke banteringly, but there was a tender 
light in his eyes as they rested upon the sturdy 
little figures trudging away in Carlotta’s wake. 

First of all, the children insisted that Natalie 
must be shown the wonders of Carlotta’s home; 
so, accordingly, a tour of the place was begun. 
The formal gardens, the goldfish pool, the ken¬ 
nels for Mrs. Smith’s prize Pekingese pups, the 
billiard room with its fascinating racks of gaily- 
colored balls, the suit of armor in the entrance 
hall, the small self-running elevator, each, in 
turn, received its toll of admiration. Then 
Bobby said, “Now show her the poor dead cow.” 

Carlotta looked puzzled. “Dead cow!” she 
exclaimed, “we haven’t any dead cow, Bobby.” 

“Yes, you have,” responded that young gentle¬ 
man. “Don’t you merember? ’Way up high, 
on the wall.” 

“He means the bison’s head,” explained Phyl- 


OVER AT CARLOTTA’S 


133 


lis, “over the fireplace in your father’s smoke- 
ing-room.” 

“0 my goodness! ” giggled Carlotta. “I never 
would have thought of that. All right, come 
on. We’ll all go look at it.” And taking Nata¬ 
lie by the hand, she led them thither. 

It was an awesome sight, that splendid shaggy 
head so far above them, and they gazed at it in 
morbid and depressing silence. Then Bobby, 
getting down on his stomach, wriggled his way 
into the fireplace and stared intently up the flue. 

“What are you looking at, Bobs?” asked 
Carlotta. 

“I want to see his legs,” said Bobby without 
moving. 

“Oh, Bobby!” shrieked Carlotta, “he hasn’t 
got any legs!” 

Bobby withdrew his head at once and sat up. 
“But how could he walk?” he asked. 

“Well, I s’pose he had some legs once, but 
after they killed him they cut off his head, an’— 
an’—so he hasn’t got any, any more,” explained 
Carlotta. 


134 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


Bobby’s mouth drooped. “Poor cow!” he 
mourned, looking at it pityingly. “Poor old 
cow! Did a bad man cut off you’s head an’ 
frow you’s legs away?” His eyes filled suddenly 
with tears. 

“Come on,” said Phyllis, “let’s not stay here. 
It makes me feel kind of creepy, too. I hate 
to see things that have really been alive an’ 
happy, made into just—just ornaments. Don’t 
you, Carlotta?” 

“Ye-e-e-s,” replied Carlotta slowly. It was 
plain she had never given the subject any seri¬ 
ous thought. “Daddy’s awful proud of it, 
though,” she added after a moment. “He likes 
to tell people how he shot it.” 

Having now exhausted all the attractions the 
big house had to offer, the children went out-of- 
doors, and, for lack of any immediate pastime, 
seated themselves in a stiff little semicircle about 
one of the beds of cannas which adorned the 
lawn; all, that is, except Bobby, who promptly 
threw himself flat down upon the soft, closely 
cropped turf, and began to roll about, yelling 


OVER AT CARLOTTA’S 135 

at the top of his lungs, “I’m a steam-woller. 
Look out! I’m cornin’!” 

“I wish our grass was nice like this,” said Sally, 
rubbing a caressing hand across its velvety sur¬ 
face. “Ours is all rough and full of humps, even 
when it’s just been cut.” 

“I like our grass,” replied Hilda, clasping her 
arms about her bended knees in a favorite atti¬ 
tude. “I like to lie down on it, on my face, an’ 
try to imagine how it would look to me if I were 
a tiny fairy.” 

The others drew closer, in rapt anticipation, 
and she continued: “The little humps would be 
like mountains, and the big, coarse grass, like 
trees. Think what a forest our front lawn 
would be!—And what a place to play hide-and- 
seek ! Then there’s that little mossy place down 
by the roots of the old white birch in the front 
yard. Remember it?” 

They all nodded solemnly. 

“Well, that’s the fairies’ ball-room! The 
grass around it shelters it, and the little fireflies 
light it, and they can dance all night without 


136 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


anybody seeing them. Sometimes, just before 
dark, I steal down there, softly, and tie some of 
the longest blades of grass together, so as to 
make swings for them. You know they like to 
play the same as children do. And after I’m in 
bed at night, an’ all the lights are out, I listen 
hard, an’ then I hear the sweetest, softest little 
laughing voices, an’ it makes me happy, ’cause I 
think, maybe they’re swinging in the little fairy 
swings.” 

The children sat like images, their eyes on 
Hilda’s face. When she finished, Carlotta cast 
a wistful glance about the well-kept lawn. “O 
dear,” she sighed, “I don’t s’pose the fairies ever 
come here. They couldn’t have fun like over in 
your yard.” 

“I tell you what!” Phyllis face was glowing. 
“Let’s build Carlotta a grotto like the one 
Mother made on Hilda’s birthday. The fairies 
would love that.” 

“Oh, Carlotta!” cried Hilda rapturously, “it 
was beautiful! She took big, flat stones and 
built a little curving wall, and then filled in the 


OVER AT CARLOTTA’S 


137 


space with moss and ferns, and put a piece of 
looking-glass in for a lake. And when it got 
dark, she set little candles all about in the moss 
and lighted them. Oh, Carlotta, I wish you 
could have seen it!” 

“Well, we’ll make her one right now,” said 
Phyllis, scrambling to her feet and beginning to 
search about in a very businesslike manner. 
“Come on, kids, get all the big, flat stones you 
can find!” 

But here they met defeat; for the grassy car¬ 
pet was as barren of stones as a real one would 
have been; and, look as they might, that emer¬ 
ald expanse yielded no stick nor bit of fairy 
moss. The children were disheartened. 

“0 dear,” grumbled Phyllis, sprawling full- 
length on the grass with her head in her hands, 
“there doesn’t seem to be anything to make it 
out of.” 

“No, there doesn’t,” was Carlotta’s disconso¬ 
late reply. “Over here there isn’t anything to 
make anything out of. It’s too picked-up.” 

“It isn’t meant for a play place,” said Sally. 


138 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


“Well, I guess we may as well give it up,” said 
Hilda, resignedly. 

“Then what shall we do?” they asked each 
other in despair. 

“Let’s play ‘Hare and hounds’,” suggested 
Sally. 

“There aren’t any good places for the hares to 
hide,” returned Phyllis, looking at the big, open 
spaces of lawn on every side. 

“But there are dandy places to lay the trail,” 
answered Sally. “Got any newspapers we can 
tear up, Carlotta?” 

Carlotta jumped to her feet. “I’ll go ask 
Stella,” she said. “I know she’ll let me have 
some.” And she vanished round the side of the 
house. 

A few moments later, she reappeared, all 
smiles, with her arms full of papers. “Let’s take 
’em into the summer-house,” she called. “It’s 
so hot out there in the sun.” 

So to the summer-house they went, and were 
soon hard at work reducing the news sheets to the 
smallest of scraps. This was a task which all 


OVER AT CARLOTTA’S 


139 


could share in, and, consequently, was com¬ 
pleted in short order. Then they drew lots to 
determine which of them were to be the hares 
and which the hounds; and thus it came about 
that Hilda, Sally, and Carlotta started out to 
lay the trail, while Phyllis, Natalie, and Bob re¬ 
mained behind. 

Phyllis sat down on the floor, and pulled the 
little ones’ heads into her lap. “Now, shut your 
eyes tight,” she said, “and don’t you dare peek till 
I count a hundred. That’ll give the others a 
good start; then we’ll see if we can catch ’em.” 
And shutting her own eyes, she began to count 
slowly, while the hares, without more ado, scut¬ 
tled away as fast as their legs would carry them, 
their skirts caught up in front like bags to carry 
the bits of torn paper which were to be the means 
of tracing them. 

Scattering this lavishly in a crazy zigzag trail 
of white they ran first out and around the garage 
at the very rear of the grounds, then back to¬ 
wards the house again by way of the flower gar¬ 
den. They circled the goldfish pool and went 


140 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


on through the pergola and down the brick-paved 
walk to the sundial; on past the kitchen annex 
and the latticed drying-yard; past the sun-parlor 
and the massive porte-cochere. Beyond lay only 
the open lawn; and as the panting hares reached 
this, they heard Phyllis’s shrill cry: “One hun¬ 
dred] —Coming, ready or not!” and knew that 
the chase was on. 

A little breeze had sprung up, and this began 
to scatter the papers as fast as they were dropped, 
so that no definite trail remained, and the yard 
began to look as if an errant snowstorm had 
struck it. 

“0 goodness, my papers are all gone!” cried 
Hilda in consternation. “And I hear them com¬ 
ing, too. Quick,—we must hide!” And with 
utter disregard of consequences, they all dived 
headfirst into a convenient clump of bushes. 

“Ouch!” squealed Carlotta, “these are bar¬ 
berry bushes! I’m all scratched up!” 

“So’m I,” said Hilda, pulling a pricker out of 
her thumb. “But we don’t dast move now. 
Here they come!” 


OVER AT CARLOTTA’S 


141 


“I’m afraid they’ll see our white dresses/’ 
whispered Sally, as she cowered behind a bush. 

The shouts of the pursuers were drawing 
nearer every minute, and soon the pack in full 
cry came around the corner of the house. But 
these three hares were never destined to be 
caught, for at that moment an upper window was 
thrown violently open and Mrs. Smith leaned 
out. 

“Carlotta!” she screamed, her face crimson 
with anger, “what are you doing? What do you 
mean by scattering papers all over the lawn like 
that! Pick them up immediately! You’re 
old enough to know better than to be up to 
such tricks! I’m perfectly ashamed of you! 
Haven’t you got enough playthings that you 
must ruin the looks of the place like this? Now, 
don’t stand there looking at me, pick them up 
at once! Suppose somebody should come to 
call!” 

With her first words, the poor little hares had 
come creeping out from under cover and stood 
looking at her miserably; while the hounds 


142 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


ceased their chase and drooped in shamed sur¬ 
prise. “Suppose somebody should come to 
call?” they were thinking, “Well, what of it? 
What difference would that make?” 

“We’re awfully sorry, Mrs. Smith,” began 
Hilda, apologetically; but Mrs. Smith inter¬ 
rupted her. “You know very well, you’re not!” 
she cried, and slammed down the window. 

Carlotta flushed and bit her lip. “She’s cross 
to-day,” she whispered to Hilda, “but, you know 
— sometimes —she’s real pleasant.” 

Hilda slid her arm about her waist. “Don’t 
you mind, Carlotta,” she whispered in reply, 
“ ’cause we don’t, not a bit.” 

Phyllis, who stood kicking at the turf with 
the toe of her shoe, looked up brightly, and ex¬ 
claimed, “I tell you what let’s do! Let’s have 
a race and see who can pick up the most.” 

“Let’s!” They accepted the suggestion with 
delight, and soon forgot the unpleasant scene 
in the mad hilarity of competition. And a half- 
hour later, when the old “Packarderm,” as 
Father facetiously called their old grey Pack- 


OVER AT CARLOTTA’S 143 

ard car, came rolling up the drive, they did not 
want to leave. 

“Just a little longer, please!” they begged. 
But Father would not listen. “No, Mother 
says you must come home. It’s nearly supper 
time/’ he said. 

So they bade good-bye to Mrs. Smith with 
no outward show of resentment, and kissed 
Carlotta lovingly, begging her to come to see 
them soon. 

Then Father chimed in. “Oh, yes, Mrs. 
Smith, my wife wanted me to be sure to ask if 
you and Carlotta could come over to tea to¬ 
morrow afternoon. I believe she is planning 
to have one or two tables of bridge/’ 

“Oh, good!” cried the children, their faces 
shining. 

Mrs. Smith’s eyes narrowed. “Why, yes,” 
she replied somewhat condescendingly, “I 
think I can come; but, I’m not so sure about 
Carlotta. I’m afraid she overtired herself to¬ 
day.” 

There was a dead silence, as, with downcast 


144 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


faces, the children took their places in the car. 

“I wonder what’s up,” mused Father. 
“Whatever it is, it’s bound to come out sooner 
or later.” 

And they drove away. 

“Have a good time?” he ventured presently, 
glancing around at them. 

“Wonderful!” was the unanimous reply; then 
silence settled down once more. 

Suddenly Phyllis spoke. “You don’t ’spose 
she’ll make Carlotta stay in to-morrow, do you?” 
she asked. 

“Oh, she couldn’t be as mean as that!” cried 
Hilda, aghast at the suggestion. 

“How could anybody be mean to Carlotta, 
she’s such a dear” added Sally, adoringly. 
“Didn’t you love her, Natalie?” 

“Yes,” answered Natalie, “I like Carlotty, but 
I think her mother’s awful cross.” 

“Old crosspatch!” came an emphatic echo 
from the corner where Bobby sat. 

And then the whole story came out. 

“We didn’t mean to be bad, Father,” explained 


i 


OVER AT CARLOTTA’S 


145 


Phyllis. “And we picked up every teeny-weeny 
scrap; but she acted just as if we had done some¬ 
thing awful.” 

“An’ when Hilda tried to be polite and ’pol- 
ogize, she just slammed down the window an’ 
wouldn’t listen/’ said Sally. 

“Poor Carlotta, she felt so ’shamed, she 
almost cried, Father,” mourned Hilda. 

“Well, Mrs. Smith takes such pride in the looks 
of her place that I suppose it did upset her when 
she saw what you wild Indians had done to it,” 
said Father, his lips twitching. 

“But we didn’t hurt anything,” said Hilda. 

Phyllis began to giggle quietly. “Oh, yes we 
did,” she declared. “We hurt Mrs. Smith’s 
feelings.” 

And so the discussion ended in a laugh. 

“Well maybe Carlotta’s house is nicer than 
ours,” observed Sally as they came in sight of 
home, “but I know one thing; her mother isn’t.” 

“Oh, nobody is so nice as Mother!” they all 
cried as they spied her watching for them at 
the gate. 


CHAPTER VIII 


TEMPEST AND SUNSHINE 

There was great excitement next morning; 
Tricksy’s puppies had arrived in the night. 
But, sad to relate, instead of making use of the 
place so carefully prepared and set apart for 
her, she had chosen to cradle them in a box in 
the broom closet under the kitchen stairs. Gus- 
sie was quite cross about it. 

“Oh, the teeny-weeny darling things!” cried 
the children, inspecting the new arrivals with 
delight. If, in the midst of their rejoicing there 
was disappointment that no one of them re¬ 
sembled the adored Rinty, they did not show it, 
but welcomed the little squirming, rat-like 
creatures with enthusiastic approval. Even 
Tricksy, herself, proud mother though she was, 
did not display more thorough satisfaction. 


TEMPEST AND SUNSHINE 147 


“How many are there?” asked Sally, her 
bright little face alight with interest as she 
knelt beside the box and peered into it. 

“Only three.” It was Hilda who answered; 
and her voice sounded conscience-stricken. 
“Oh, Phyll,” she said miserably, “p’raps we 
should have made more bassinets. Poor 
Tricksy prob’ly thought there wouldn’t be room 
for more than three.” 

“Well, it’s too late now,” responded Phyllis, 
philosophically. “We can own ’em all together, 
since there isn’t one apiece. Oh, see the darling 
one with the black spot on its tail! Look, 
Natalie! Don’t you love him?” 

“You isn’t plannin’ fo’ to keep all of ’em, is 
you?” demanded Gussie, pausing in the midst 
of her breakfast dishes to regard the excited chil¬ 
dren with frank disapproval. 

u Keep them?” they echoed blankly, return¬ 
ing her look with utter astonishment. “Why, 
of course! What would we do with them?” 

“Drown ’em!” Gussie fairly spat out the 
words, adding emphasis to her reply, if that were 


148 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


necessary, by the slam of the dish-cupboard 
door. 

The children jumped to their feet. “What!” 
they shrieked. “Drown Tricksy’s puppies?” 

They gazed at Gussie, open-mouthed, as 
though fearing that she had suddenly gone mad. 
How could they know that her ill-temper was 
due, in a large measure, to a sleepless night of 
worry over her*shiftless, drunken son? 

Gussie faced them angrily, her hands on her 
ample hips. “Dat’s what I said, an’ dat’s what 
I mean!” she replied with ominous finality. 
“I ain’t a-goin’ to have all dem mutts roun’ heah 
unner mah feets, an’ I tells you dat, flat! One 
you can keep; de odders has to go! ” And hav¬ 
ing delivered these dreadful words, she turned 
once more to her dishes. 

There was a dead silence for a moment, while 
the children stood as if paralyzed, their eyes 
wide with horror and unbelief. Then Phyllis 
found her voice. “You’re a bad wicked 
woman!” she declared, stamping her foot, “an’ 
you ought to be ashamed of yourself! ” While 


TEMPEST AND SUNSHINE 149 


Sally, with one indignant look at Gussie’s hostile 
back, dashed, screaming, from the room. 

“I’m going to tell Mother! I’m going to tell 
Mother! I’m going to tell Mother!” she 
repeated in a sing-song voice, somewhat trem¬ 
ulous with anxiety. 

Then Hilda tried to smooth the matter over 
by saying, soothingly, “Don’t be silly, Phyllis. 
Gussie doesn’t mean that, not really.” 

“Deed I does!” Gussie wheeled sharply about 
and spoke in a loud, angry voice. “You tell you 
Pa ef he don’t drown dem dawgs, I do it myse’f. 
I got ’nough troubles, ’out havin’ dem messin’ 
roun’.” 

By this time Phyllis was trembling with anger, 
while the other three, stunned to speechlessness, 
took refuge behind her. “You lay one finger on 
those puppies, Gussie Johnson,” she said tensely, 
“and I’ll—I’ll—” she broke off, breathless, inco¬ 
herent, choking; and Bobby valiantly took up 
the cudgels. 

Stepping close up to Gussie, he menaced her 
with one chubby fore-finger. “You—you— 


150 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


you—” he stammered excitedly, “you touch ’em, 
an’ I’ll—I’ll bite you, Gussie, I will.” 

“An’ I’ll get a p’liceman an’ have you ’rested 
an’ sent to prison,” was Natalie’s dire threat. 

“Huh!” grunted Gussie, contemptuously, 
swishing her dish-water with angry vigor. 

Fortunately for all concerned, Molly appeared 
in the doorway at this instant, with Sally follow¬ 
ing close behind. 

“Well, well!” she exclaimed at sight of their 
angry faces. “What a lot of cross-looking 
people! And what’s this about poor little 
Tricksy?” 

They hurled themselves upon her with a babel 
of explanations.. “Tricksy . . . the puppies 
. . . Father . . . Gussie . . . drown. . . 

In stolid silence, Gussie listened, her face a 
mask of sullen indifference. Molly put both 
hands over her ears. “I can’t understand when 
you all talk at once,” she said, readily sensing 
the drift of things. “And before you try to tell 
me what’s happened, let’s move Tricksy out to 
the garage. That’ll be the best place for her 


TEMPEST AND SUNSHINE 151 


for a few days. I know Gussie doesn’t want her 
here, and I don’t blame her. She’d be terribly 
in the way. Come, we’ll fix a nice place for her 
and then get Father to carry out her box.” 

“But, Mother,” they protested, almost in tears, 
“the playroom—the bassinets—” 

“Yes, yes, I know,” she answered gently, open¬ 
ing the outer door and beckoning them to follow. 
“But those must wait until the puppies are 
older. They’re too little to sleep alone, yet, you 
know, Tricksy wants them in the box with her.” 

Reluctantly they went with her down the 
drive towards the garage, with many a lingering, 
backward look. 

“You’re sure, Mother, that Gussie won’t do 

% 

anything to ’em while we’re gone?” asked Sally. 

“Sure? Why, of course, dear,” answered Molly 
confidently. “Don’t you know Gussie is too 
tender-hearted to harm those little, helpless 
things?” 

“But she said she would,” protested Sally, 

while the others nodded confirmation. 

/ 

“Gussie’s feeling cross this morning,” said 


152 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


Molly, “and we’re all apt to say more than we 
mean when we feel that way. In a few days 
she’ll be as crazy about the puppies as we are. 
Wait and see.” 

So, comforted, and with their confidence in 
Gussie re-established, they skipped along at 
Molly’s side, chattering merrily. 

“I knew Gussie was cross when I got up this 
morning,” said Phyllis. “I could hear her sing¬ 
ing ‘The Storm of Life’ while I was getting 
dressed. I wonder why she always sings that 
when she’s feeling cranky. Do you s’pose it 
helps her to get over her crossness?” 

“It’s so sad-sounding I should think it would 
make her feel a whole lot worse,” observed Sally. 

“When Gussie sings that way, I always feel 
bad, here.” Bobby laid his hand in the region 
of his fat stomach, as he spoke, and sighed 
deeply. 

“Poor Gussie, she has her troubles. We must 
all be kind to her,” said Molly, as a plaintive 
melody floated out across the yard from the 
open kitchen windows. Though the distance 


TEMPEST AND SUNSHINE 


153 


was too great to catch the words, they all knew 
them well: 


“When the storm of life are raging, hide Thou me, 
When the storm of life are raging, hide Thou me. 

In the sight of Jordan billow, 

Let Thy bosom be my pillow, 

Hide me, 0 Thou rock of ages, 

Safe in Thee.” 

Ill-temper was a thing of such rare occurrence 
in Gussies case, that Molly resolved she must 
make an effort to discover the reason for this 
outburst at an early opportunity. Meanwhile, 
the song continued its mournful refrain: 

“Until the storm of life is pass, hide Thou me, 
Until the storm of life is pass, hide Thou me, 

In the sight of Jordan billow, 

Let Thy bosom be my pillow, 

Hide me, 0 Thou rock of ages, 

Safe in Thee.” 

“Mother, why does Gussie like that song so 
much?” asked Hilda. 

“I don’t know. I suppose it’s a sort of outlet 


154 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


for her feelings when she’s upset about some¬ 
thing.” 

“Same as when we cry?” 

“Exactly.” 

“Poor Gussie! ” Phyllis’s tone was genuinely 
remorseful as she turned and faced them with an 
almost tragic air. “She must feel just terrible 
about something, an’ I was so cross to her.” 

“But she was horrid about the puppies,” 
Sally remarked gravely. 

Then Molly opened the garage door and they 
all swarmed in. 

The “garage,” so called from the fact that it 
was the home of their dingy “Packarderm,” was 
no more nor less than a roomy old barn, which, in 
the days before they owned the place, had served 
as shelter for numerous cows, horses, and articles 
of farm equipment. 

The children set to work upon it, now, with 
brooms and pails of water, and soon had one of 
the stalls in what they considered a suitable con¬ 
dition of cleanliness to receive the new little 
family. Then, with fresh straw and some old 


TEMPEST AND SUNSHINE 155 


quilts, they made the place comfortable so that, 
a few minutes later, when Tom appeared with 
the box in his arms, everything was ready. 

As soon as the box was set down, Tricksy 
hopped out and began to sniff curiously about 
her new quarters; and having assured her little 
dog mind that everything was quite all right, she 
got back into the box and settled down quietly 
with her babies once more. 

“I think she’s going to like it, here, don’t you?” 
Molly asked the children. 

“If she only isn’t lonely,” said Hilda, doubt¬ 
fully. 

“She’s got the puppies for company,” re¬ 
marked Phyllis. 

“But that’s not like us said Hilda. “They 
can’t talk.” 

“She’ll be all right,” Tom assured her. “It’s 
quiet here, and she has everything she needs 
except a pan of water; and I guess Bobs can run 
back to the house and get that.” 

“Sure,” replied that young man, proud to have 
been singled out for this important mission. He 


156 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


hustled away as fast as his fat legs would carry 
him; but in a few minutes they saw him coming 
slowly back with a pail in each hand; one con¬ 
taining water, and the other something which 
was steaming hot. 

“Why, what’s this?” asked Molly as she 
relieved him of his burden. 

“Soup,” he gasped, all out of breath with his 
exertions. “Gussie said Twicksy must have 
some warm food.” 

Molly and the little girls exchanged glances 
which said as plainly as any words, “Ah, ha! 
Gussie has had a change of heart already!” 

“I guess she’s sorry she was so cross,” Hilda re¬ 
marked with a happy laugh. 

“I guess we all are,” Phillis replied thought¬ 
fully. “An’ I think it would be nice to ask 
Maudie May over to play with us this afternoon 
while Carlotta is here. That’ll show Gussie we 
aren’t mad at her any more, and it’ll make her 
happy, an’ then, maybe she’ll stop singing ‘The 
Storm of Life’.” 

“Oh, ask her then, by all means,” cried Tom. 


TEMPEST AND SUNSHINE 157 


“Anything to give us a rest from that hymn! 
I’m getting decidedly fed up on it.” 

They turned their steps slowly in the direction 
of the house once more, and had almost reached 
it when they were startled by a series of ear¬ 
piercing screams coming from the direction of 
the garage. 

Molly turned pale. “It’s Bobby!” she 
whispered, clutching Tom by the arm. “I 
thought he was with us. 0 dear!—what can have 
happened?” 

Visions of broken arms and legs rose before 
their eyes as they raced back along the drive, 
Tom, with his long legs, easily outdistancing 
them all. 

“Don’t worry, dear,” he called back over his 
shoulder. “He sounds to me more scared than 
hurt.” 

A moment later he shouted, “He’s all right!” 

“Thank God!” breathed Molly weakly, slack¬ 
ening her pace; for between fright and the exer¬ 
tion of running, she was pretty well winded. 

But when she came in sight of the garage, and 


158 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


the beloved little khaki-clad form, she ran to him 
with outstretched, trembling arms. 

“What is it darling?” she cried. “Are you 
hurt?—Tell Mother,—quick!” She held him 
off, feeling his arms, his legs, his sturdy little 
body for possible injuries. But he could only 
sob and cling to her, too overcome for words. 

“Can’t you tell us, darling?” she persisted. 

“Maybe a bee stung him,” suggested Sally. 

Bobby shook his head. “I feel,” he said, turn¬ 
ing a sickly white, “as if I was goin’ to frow up.” 
And, forthwith he proceeded to do so. 

“Poor little soul,” said Molly as, this deed 
accomplished, he drooped limply against her 
shoulder. “Something dreadful must have hap¬ 
pened to upset him so. I wish we could find out 
what it was.” 

Bobby burrowed his face into her neck. 
“Twicksy,” he moaned in a weak voice, “she’s— 
she’s eatin’ the p-puppies!” 

Tom gave a horrified exclamation, and 
promptly vanished into the garage, while the 
little girls began to cry. But a moment later 


TEMPEST AND SUNSHINE 159 


their fears were dispelled by the sound of his 
hearty laughter. 

“Just look here/’ he called. “Come quietly, 
you needn’t be afraid. It’s all right; but I don’t 
wonder poor little Bobs was scared.” 

Even with these reassurances, they were 
almost afraid to look as they stole softly into the 
great, dim place. When at length they did, how¬ 
ever, and warily followed the direction of his 
pointing finger, they discovered Tricksy crouch¬ 
ing in the shadow of the old Packarderm with 
something—something that moved —dangling 
from her mouth. They looked closer. 

“What’s she found?” asked Natalie. 

“Why,” exclaimed Sally, “it’s one of the pup- 
pies! 

At sight of her Bobby’s tears broke out afresh. 
“See?” he quavered, hiding his face again, “I 
told you!” 

“But, darling,” said Molly, kissing him, “she 
isn’t eating the puppy nor even hurting it. 
That’s the way she carries them. See how gentle 
she is? It doesn’t hurt at all. But, 0 dear! 


160 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


I’m afraid she’s trying to take them back to the 
kitchen. We must fasten the garage door.” 

So back into the stall they put Tricksy and the 
puppy, relief from their recent fright making 
them almost hysterical as they conveyed her 
there and, this time, locked her in. 

“0 my goodness!” exclaimed Phyllis, sinking 
down on the grass by the side of the drive, “I 
can’t stand many more frights like that!” 

Meanwhile, Molly and Hilda, arm in arm, were 
strolling slowly towards the house, while Tom 
lingered behind to shake down a few pears from 
one of his trees, for the other children who were 
clamoring for them. 

‘‘Mother,” said Hilda presently, “doesn’t it 
seem kind of sad to lock poor Tricksy in when 
she wants to be with us so much ?” 

“It’s best for a while, dear,” answered Molly. 
“When she once gets used to it, she won’t mind 
at all.” 

But Tricksy was of a different opinion; and 
being a determined little dog, had fully decided 
that a garage was no fit place in which to rear 


TEMPEST AND SUNSHINE 161 


her newly acquired family. “Where there’s a 
will, there’s a way,” was her motto, and inside of 
an hour, she had taken steps to prove the truth 
of it. For, presently, loud exclamations from 
the kitchen drew the family thither; and there, 
in the corner of the broom closet where they had 
first seen the light of day, lay the three puppies, 
while Tricksy standing near, wagged her stumpy 
tail in triumph. 

“Why, how did she get out?” asked Molly in 
bewilderment. “Did any of you children un¬ 
lock the door?” 

There was a chorus of denials. Then Gus- 
sie, slapping her wide hips, rocked to-and-fro 
in glee. 

“Dat Tricksy suah is a wise dawg!” she de¬ 
clared without a trace of her former animosity. 
“De minute she see my back is turn, in she bring 
dose pups. She bring in one, den I toilers her 
to see how she done it. She got froo a little do’ 
in de back o’ de stall, an’ she wuk mighty hard, 
I tell you! But she gits ’em all in at las’. She’s 
de perseverin’est dawg I ebber did see, an’ I ’clare 


162 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


to goodness, I ain’t got de heart to sen’ her back. 
Jes’ look at ’er, now, standin’ there laughin’ at 
us,—laughin’ fit to bust!” 

“Oh, Gussie, you do love them, don’t you?” 
Hilda threw both arms about Gussie’s wide 
waist, as she spoke, and gave her a hearty 
squeeze. But before Gussie could reply, there 
was a wild stampede in her direction. Four 
pairs of hands clutched her voluminous gingham 
skirts, and four pairs of arms strove to encircle 
her stout form. In her delight, she laughed and 
scolded alternately. 

“Hi, now—you git out, you chilluns! Le’ me 
be, I say!—How I gwine git mah wuk done, less 
you quit your foolin’? Hi-yi? You Bobby, stop 
a-ticklin’me! I’ll git de rollin’-pin! You bet- 
tah watch out! Git, now, dere’s company 
cornin’ dis atternoon, I ain’t got no time foh dese 
yere ructions!” 

Molly drew close to Tom. “I guess this will 
put the quietus on The Storm of Life’ for today, 
at any rate,” she said. 


CHAPTER IX 


MOLLY ENTERTAINS 

Molly Brewster stood in the center of her 
big bright living-room and looked about it with 
critical eyes. The hour for her guests to arrive 
was drawing near, and she was anxious that 
everything should be in readiness for them. 
Humming softly to herself, she flitted about, 
straightening a picture here, re-arranging a vase 
of flowers there, and plumping up the sofa cush¬ 
ions. The room was charming, and she knew it. 
From the fine old family portraits above the 
mantel to the glowing bowl of zinnias on the 
gate-leg table in the corner, there was no jarring 
note; the atmosphere was one of simple har¬ 
mony. 

She crossed the room to the alcove where the 
tea table was set, and paused to regard it with a 
thoughtful air. Even the most critical of guests 


163 


164 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


could not fail to admire her eggshell china and 
her antique silver tea set, she decided. 

“It may not be up to the minute in every de¬ 
tail, as Mrs. Smith’s would be,” she soliloquized, 
“but it’s dainty and in good taste, at any rate.” 

The same might well have been said of her, as 
she stood there, very slim and girlish, in her 
frock of soft pink crepe, with the lustre of old 
mahogany about her. 

The clock on the landing boomed the hour 
sonorously, ONE—TWO—THREE; and, with a 
last satisfied glance about her, Molly started in 
search of the children who, dressed in their best, 
had been ready and waiting for a good half-hour 
for the arrival of their beloved Carlotta. 

The sound of voices drew her to the front 
porch, and there she found the six of them—for 
Maudie May had gleefully accepted their rather 
tardy invitation—a tense, expectant row on the 
top step. 

Their long-drawn, admiring “O-o-oh!” at 
sight of her was as pretty a compliment as any 
one could wish. 


MOLLY ENTERTAINS 165 

“You look beautiful, Mother,” cried Sally, 
“beautiful as—as a queen!” 

Phyllis laughed derisively. “Queens aren’t 
beautiful,” she said, “not always, anyway.” 

Sally flushed. “They are so,” she retorted 
vehemently, “aren’t they, Hilda?” 

Hilda, thus appealed to, looked uncomfort¬ 
able. Of all things, she hated to be drawn into 
an argument, and fought shy of one whenever 
possible. 

“Queen Marie is beautiful,” was her indirect 
reply. 

“That’s only one,” argued Phyllis. “I’ll bet 
you can’t name any others. Look at Queen 
Victoria; she was awful fat an’ homely.” 

“Why, Phyllis Brewster, she was not!” ex¬ 
claimed Sally, shocked and indignant. “I’ve 
seen her picture lots of times, an’ she’s just 
beautiful . She wears a crown an’ jewels, an’ 
lovely traily dresses—” 

“I’m not talking about her clothes,” said 
Phyllis, obstinately, “I’m talking about her, an’ 
she is fat, an’ homely, too.” 


166 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


“She isn’t!” 

“She is so!” 

“She isn’t, she isn’t, she isn’t!” screamed Sally, 
her face growing redder every minute. 

Phyllis suddenly seemed moved to a sort of 
impish glee. She began to laugh in a very aggra¬ 
vating way. 

“Fat an’ homely, fat an’ homely, fat an’ 
homely,” she chanted teasingly. 

“Beautiful, be-autiful, be-eau-tijul!” sang 
Sally with her fingers in her ears. 

“Fat an’ home’y, fat an’ home’y, fat an’ 
home’y!” mimicked Bobby, joining his voice to 
the taunting rhythm of Phyllis’s. 

Molly decided it was time to interfere. “It’s 
three o’clock, they ought to be here soon,” she 
said. 

“Good! I hope Carlotta gets here first!” 
cried Sally, happy at the thought of soon behold¬ 
ing her idol. 

“Good, good, good,” yelled Bobby, bouncing 
up and down like an animated rubber ball. 
“Then we can show her the puppies!” 


MOLLY ENTERTAINS 167 

“Let me show ’em to her first,” begged Natalie. 

“No— me,” replied Bobby firmly. 

“I tell you what/’ said Phyllis, “let’s play a 
joke on her. We’ll make her shut her eyes and 
hold out her hand, an’ then we’ll put one of the 
puppies into it an’ see if she can guess what it is.” 

“She might be scared an’ drop it,” objected 
Hilda. 

“Well, we won’t take it out of the box, then,” 
said Phyllis. “We’ll just let her put her hand on 
it, an’ then try to guess.” 

And so it was settled. 

“Don’t you tell her anything about ’em, Bobs,” 

% 

cautioned Hilda, “don’t even hint.” For as 
' they all knew, Bobs had a weakness for “letting 
the cat out of the bag.” 

No doubt there would have been angry words, 
for Bobs resented Hilda’s remark, but just at that 
moment, the Smiths’ handsome limousine came 
purring up the drive. 

“Hush, everybody, here she comes!” cried 
Phyllis. 

“Hooray! Hooray!” they yelled, bounding 


168 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


to their feet and waving an excited welcome. 
But no answering wave came from the big car, 
and as it stopped at the door and Molly ran down 
the steps to meet it, no bright child-face peered 
out from its shadowy interior. 

“Why, where’s Carlotta?” asked Molly in dis¬ 
may. “Oh, Mrs. Smith, I hope she isn’t sick. 
We’ve been counting on her so.” 

Mrs. Smith, resplendent in orchid chiffon, 
stepped majestically down from the cushioned 
seat, and shook out her skirts with tantalizing 
deliberation. Then she held out her hand to 
Molly. 

“How do you do, Mrs. Brewster,” she said 
with a half-amused glance at the children as 
they all pressed close for news of their favorite. 

“No Carlotta isn’t sick, though it really is a 
wonder she isn’t. She’s so unused to romping, 
you know. But it seemed best that she should 
stay at home this afternoon. I’m sorry if it dis¬ 
appoints the kiddies.” 

There was a moment of silence as the children 
stared in bewilderment at Mrs. Smith. For 


MOLLY ENTERTAINS 


169 


them, the brightness of the day was gone; all in 
a second, the castles they had raised so happily 
had come tumbling down about their ears, and 
for no apparent reason. They could not under¬ 
stand it. 

And then a strange thing happened; for, 
before Molly could find words in which to express 
her regret, Sally turned on Mrs. Smith like a 
perfect little Fury. 

“You know you’re not sorry!” she blazed, un¬ 
consciously making use of the amazed woman’s 
own words of the day before. “You’re glad! 
You left her home on purpose, just to punish us! 
You ought to be ashamed of yourself, you—you 
terrible woman! ” Then, in a flurry of tears, she 
fled into the house and up the stairs to her bed¬ 
room. 

The children turned and walked dejectedly 
away. 

When they had gone a short distance, Phyllis 
exclaimed in a tone of admiration, “My, wasn’t 
Sally corking? Wasn’t she just corking, 
though!” 


170 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


And Hilda replied, a little breathlessly, “I 
don’t see how she dared, do you, Phyll?” 

“I’m right glad she sassed her,” declared the 
loyal Maudie May. “My.gran’mammy say dat 
Mis’ Smiff is gettin’ altogedder too uppety. She 
ain’t nobody, nohow. What right she got bein’ 
so sot up? She’s jus’ ornery, dat’s what!” 

Molly, in the meantime, was apologizing to 
her guest. “I can’t tell you how sorry and 
ashamed I am,” she said with heightened color. 
“I’ve never known Sally to be so rude, and am 
really at a loss to understand it. The only ex¬ 
planation I can find for her behavior, is that she 
simply adores Carlotta, and has been looking for¬ 
ward to this afternoon with so much pleasure 
that the disappointment of not having her come 
was too much for her. Please don’t think, 
though, that I am trying to excuse her. I’m ter¬ 
ribly mortified.” 

Mrs. Smith followed Molly into the house, 
looking about her sharply as she did so. No 
worn places on the rugs or furniture escaped the 
scrutiny of her eagle eyes. Compared with her 


MOLLY ENTERTAINS 


171 


own highly-polished and up-to-date establish¬ 
ment, this simple, tasteful home looked shabby 
and old-fashioned. With a feeling almost of 
pity for Molly, she seated herself upon one of 
the slender, fiddle-back chairs, and began to fan 
herself with a small, hand-painted parchment 
fan. 

“This younger generation!” she exclaimed 
with a shrug of her plump shoulders, “aren’t they 
just the limit! I often tell my husband that this 
loose, modern way of bringing up children is 
to blame for half the stuff you read in the papers 
nowadays, about the problems of the present age. 
Children are allowed too much freedom, too 
much independence.” She closed her fan 
sharply, and used it to rap out the emphasis of 
her remarks. 

“Why, the majority of them think they 
know as much as their parents do,” she con¬ 
tinued with an amused smile. “More, in fact. 
They’re ab-so-lute-ly impossible! That’s the 
reason I am so strict with Carlotta. I am 
determined that she shall not be like that. She 


172 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


must be obedient—no arguing about a thing, 
once I’ve told her to do it—and respectful; and 
she must not get her head full of all these silly 
notions about self-expression. She has a play¬ 
room and plenty of toys, and she has been trained 
to amuse herself there quietly, without upsetting 
the rest of the house. I should never think of 
allowing her to race all over the place the way 
your children do.” 

“And yet,” said Molly gently, “we ought to 
remember that, after all, they are little individ¬ 
uals, not all cut after one pattern. And too 
tight a check-rein is bound to have a bad effect.” 

Mrs. Smith snorted. “That’s the whole 
trouble!” she exclaimed. “The whole trouble! 
Nowadays, the parents simply hand the reins 
over to the children and let them run things. 
No, Mrs. Brewster, I may be old-fashioned in 
this respect—” she laughed rather disagreeably 
—“but I thoroughly believe in keeping them 
under when they’re young, else there’s no living 
with them.” 

“I’m afraid we all expect too much of them at 


MOLLY ENTERTAINS 173 

times/’ returned Molly sadly. “We’re apt to 
look for old heads on young shoulders:” 

“Nonsense! ” exclaimed Mrs. Smith brusquely. 
“You give them credit for a lot more sense than 
they possess. They’re nothing but little ani¬ 
mals, when they’re young, and must be trained 
by the same methods.” 

Molly’s face was singularly like Hilda’s in the 
dreamy wistfulness of its expression, as she re¬ 
plied slowly, “I have always wanted my children 
to develop naturally; to have a free, happy, un¬ 
restrained childhood, one they could look back 
upon in later years with only pleasant memories. 
My own was like that,”—her eyes glowed remi¬ 
niscently,—“and I want theirs to be. It helps so 
much in the years when cares and troubles and 
responsibilities begin to come. It’s something 
that can never be taken from them, and that the 
passing of time only makes more lovely. Those 
memories, when they come in your maturer years 
are like looking at a wonderful picture, or a sun¬ 
set over the water.” She leaned forward in her 
earnestness. “Oh,” she cried tensely, “they’re 


174 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


young for such a little while! Can’t we help to 
make those years completely happy? If we fail 
in this, what can we give them that will make 
amends?” 

Mrs. Smith looked at her strangely. “It’s 
plain to see,” she remarked coldly, “that our 
ideas in regard to child-training do not coincide 
at all.” 

To Molly’s relief, Tom entered at this moment, 
and the conversation was naturally diverted 
into other channels. And presently she was able 
to excuse herself and go in search of Sally. 

She found the small delinquent in her bed¬ 
room, staring moodily out of the window; but 
at sound of her mother’s footsteps, she turned 
about and, as her eyes met Molly’s grave ones, 
her whole face quivered. 

“Are you cross with me, Mother?” she asked, 
a little tremor in her voice. 

“Not cross,” answered Molly, “but terribly 
ashamed that a guest in my house should be 
treated so rudely. I don’t know what to think 
of you, Sally, for talking so to Mrs. Smith.” 


MOLLY ENTERTAINS 175 

Sally’s face settled into stubborn lines. “She 
was rude to us, yesterday,” she said. 

“That doesn’t excuse you, Sally. So do people 
rob and burn and kill. Is that any reason why 
we should do those things?” 

Sally drummed on the window-sill. At 
length she said defensively, “She’s older than 
we are; and she shouldn’t talk that way to us.” 

“Yes, it’s true she is older than you; but that 
has nothing whatever to do with your conduct. 
This isn’t a question of age, Sally, it’s a question 
of manners.” 

Sally hung her head, and Molly continued: 

“Mrs. Smith is the mother of your dearest 
friend, a guest in our house, and yet you practi¬ 
cally insulted her.” 

“Well, she ought not to treat us the way 
she did,” muttered Sally, “as if we didn’t have 
any feelings. We don’t like people to be rude to 
us, even if we are children.” 

“Perhaps when she was young no one taught 
her to control her temper nor to be considerate 
of other people’s feelings. I have tried to teach 


176 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


you those things, and it’s a great mortification 
to me to find that I have failed.” 

Sally’s brown eyes opened wide with sur¬ 
prise. “It isn’t your fault, Mother,” she 
exclaimed, “it’s just me!” 

A silence fell between them for a few moments, 
then, with a big sigh, Sally asked, “Do I have to 
tell her I’m sorry, Mother?” 

“Have to? Why, no. Certainly not,” an¬ 
swered Molly. “If you’re not sorry, it won’t 
help matters any to tell her that you are.” 

Sally looked thoughtful, and Molly, wisely 
saying nothing, watched the angry little face 
for some sign of relenting. At length she w T as 
rewarded, for, gradually the pouting under lip 
drew in, the puckered forehead smoothed, the 
drooping shoulders straightened, and Sally 
threw her a fleeting, shamefaced smile. 

“I’ll tell her,” she gulped, swallowing a rising 
sob. 

“Are you sure you really mean it?” 

“Ye-es.” There was hesitation in the reply. 

“ Sure?” 


MOLLY ENTERTAINS 


177 


Sally burst into tears. “Oh,” she cried, “I 
don’t know why I talked that way to her. I 
felt so bad ’cause Carlotta didn’t come, an’ then 
Mrs. Smith acted so horrid, just as if it made her 
happy to see us all so disappointed, an’ I just 
couldn’t stand it, Mother, I couldn’t stand it! 
I had to say something or else b-bust!” 

Molly stooped and kissed her gently. Though 
she knew that Sally’s conscience had won the 
battle, she also knew the difficulty of the task 
which lay before her, for Mrs. Smith was in no 
gracious mood; and realizing this, her heart 
yearned over the small penitent. 

But once she had made up her mind to do the 
thing, Sally did not falter. And Molly, from the 
landing, watched the little figure as it slowly 
descended the stairway, longing, with all the 
strength of a mother’s heart, to lend the moral 
support of her presence, yet fearful that by doing 
so she might lessen the child’s confidence in her¬ 
self. 

The last step reached, Sally turned for a final 
look at the strengthening eyes above her ; then, 


178 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


squaring her shoulders, marched into the living- 
room and straight up to Mrs. Smith. 

That lady was deep in a recital of a recent 
travelling experience: “Why, when they told 
us twenty dollars a day,” she was saying im¬ 
pressively to Tom, “we supposed of course it in¬ 
cluded meals—” when a timid hand upon her 
knee made her look down, and she met Sally’s big, 
dark eyes fixed upon her with a wide, appealing 
gaze. Immediately her affability dropped from 
her like a cloak, and she stiffened visibly. But 
Sally was not to be discouraged. 

“Mrs. Smith,” she said in her clear, childish 
treble, with just a hint of tears, “I didn’t mean to 
be rude to you. It wasn’t nice. I hope you 
will forgive me.” 

But Mrs. Smith did not unbend. She sat as 
stiff and cold as a statue; and Sally, seeing no 
hint of softening in the hard gray eyes, hastily 
finished her apology. 

“I just wanted to tell you,” she continued, 
swallowing hard and blinking very fast, “that 
I’m sorry,—at least,—not very!” 


MOLLY ENTERTAINS 


179 


Then she was gone, out of the front door and 
across the lawn to the swing where the children 
were gathered, skimming the ground like a bird 
on the wing, her heart apparently as light as the 
feet which carried her. 

Tom and Molly talked it over that evening 
after the children had gone to bed. “I had hard 
work to keep my face straight,” said Tom, 
chuckling. “She was so perfectly honest about 
it. But you should have seen Mrs. Smith’s ex¬ 
pression. Poor thing! She has no sense of 
humor!” 

“What did she say?” asked Molly wretchedly. 

“Well, she sort of gasped, and then made some 
remark about children being more truthful than 
polite,” grinned Tom. “Then, mercifully, the 
other guests arrived.” 

Molly sighed. “O dear, I’m afraid were 
utterly, hopelessly disgraced,” she said. 

“Cheer up, old lady!” answered Tom with one 
of his big, hearty laughs. “I’ll never desert you, 
as the immortal Mrs. Micawber would say, 
never, never, never!” 


/ 


CHAPTER X 

A WANDERER RETURNS 

The 7.15 from New York rolled slowly into 
the little station at Armitage, and came to a 
stop with a great screaming of brakes and letting- 
off of steam, for all the world like a self-impor¬ 
tant person trying to attract attention to him¬ 
self. 

Though a busy, bustling town during that por¬ 
tion of the year when the University was in 
session, during the summer months, Armitage 
settled down into a state of inactivity closely 
resembling the proverbial “doornail;” but the 
coming of autumn invariably wakened it to a 
life of such renewed vigor that it seemed as if 
the rest had been almost essential in order that 
the drowsy old town might gather strength to 
carry on for another ten months. 


180 



t i 


Home at Last!” — Page 181 














A WANDERER RETURNS 


181 


On this occasion, the New York train had but 
a single passenger to discharge, a tall, clean-cut, 
youngish-looking man whose dress and bearing, 
as well as the patchwork of foreign labels on his 
bags, proclaimed him the accustomed traveller. 
But there was a noticeable weariness in the droop 
of the broad shoulders, a settled melancholy in 
the dark eyes which made you feel that sorrow 
had etched the lines about his firm, yet almost 
boyish mouth. 

He stood on the platform for a moment with 
a dazed, preoccupied air, as if unaware of his sur¬ 
roundings; then, as though starting from a 
dream, he shook himself and began to look about. 

“Home, at last! ” he breathed, his eyes travel¬ 
ling slowly over the little square brick building 
in its oasis of close-cropped grass whereon letters 
three feet in height, of whitewashed cobble¬ 
stones, proclaimed the important fact that this 
was A-R-M-I-T-A-G-E. 

% 

“Same old town,” he commented, lighting a 
cigarette and letting his gaze drift past the sta¬ 
tion and on towards the twinkling lights of the 


182 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


business center. “Wonder if I’ll have trouble 
getting some one to drive me out home.” 

He walked briskly around to the rear of the 
building, hoping for a sight of some conveyance; 
but all he found was a solitary Ford standing, 
abandoned, in the cinder-blackened road. 

“Looks as if it might have been here since the 
Year One,” he remarked to himself, examining 
the dilapidated vehicle with something of amuse¬ 
ment. “Shouldn’t wonder of it were the first 
one Henry made.” 

Then, convinced of the hopelessness of the 
situation, he put his head in at the station door¬ 
way and called to the placid-looking individual 
in charge of the ticket-office, “Any chance of my 
getting a taxi?” 

“No sir,—not a chance!” was the discouraging 
reply. “Weddin’ over to Curtiss Plains to¬ 
night. All the for-rent cars are over there. We 
don’t have no reg’lar taxi service.” 

“Confound it!” Rodney Harrington thrust 
his hands deep into his trousers pockets and sur¬ 
veyed the tips of his well-polished shoes with a 


A WANDERER RETURNS 


183 


troubled frown. The possibility of this develop¬ 
ment had not entered into his calculations. Of 
course he could telephone Molly; if she and Tom 
were home, he knew they would gladly drive 
over in the car and get him. But that would 
spoil his plan; the plan he had made when he 
found his boat was docking sooner than had been 
expected when he sent his radiogram, thus en¬ 
abling him to catch an afternoon train instead 
of waiting until the following morning. It 
would be so much fun to walk in upon them un¬ 
expectedly. The thought of their surprise 
would help to tide him over the dreadful empti¬ 
ness of his return. The sight of the children’s 
faces when he should suddenly appear at break¬ 
fast, would serve to lessen the pathos of that 
little vacant chair. 

“If it weren’t for the bags,” he said presently, 
“I could walk.” 

“How far y’ goin’?” asked the agent. 

“A couple of miles out on the Turnpike,” Rod¬ 
ney answered. 

The agent looked at him sharply. “I thought 


184 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


I reco’nized you,” he said, “Don’t you belong out 
to Brewster’s?” 

Rodney nodded. 

The agent shoved his head out through the 
ticket window and looked at Rodney with his 
pale, rather near-set eyes. “Exactly like a tur¬ 
tle coming out of its shell,” thought Rodney with 
amusement. 

“Well,” he said after a moment’s scrutiny, 
“seems’s if there’d oughta be somebody could 
take yuh. Hank Allen was in here an hour or 
so ago. He lives out your way. Mebbe he’ll 
drive yuh.” 

“Allen?” repeated Rodney, “I don’t think I 
remember him.” 

“No, Hank’s new to these parts,” replied the 
agent. “Comes from ’way over beyond Oldfield. 
Just bought the Butterfield property. That’s 
out beyond you, ain’t it, over towards Curtiss 
Plains?” 

“Yes,” replied Rodney. “Why, if he lives 
there, he’s our next door neighbor. Is that his 
car outside?” 


A WANDERER RETURNS 185 

“Yep,—that’s his E-lizabeth,” answered the 
agent with a grin. 

Rodney strolled up and down the little box¬ 
like room. “Any idea when What’s-’is-name 
will be back?” he asked presently. 

The agent cocked his ear and listened. 
“There’s the 8.05 whistlin’ for the bend, now,” 
he remarked. “Hank oughta be here soon. He 
ain’t one for keepin’ late hours.” 

“I should think not, if he’s depending on that 
to get him home,” responded Rodney. 

“Well she ain’t much fer looks,” admitted the 
agent, “but—papa! She kin go!” 

Rodney paced restlessly about while the hands 
of the station clock registered five, ten, fifteen 
minutes; then, suddenly, from without came a 
loud report like an explosion, followed almost 
instantly, by what sounded like a fusillade of 
shots. 

“A hold-up!” he exclaimed, making for the 
door. 

“Naw, that ain’t no hold-up,” replied the 
agent calmly, “that’s Hank.” And opening the 


186 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


window of his little coop, he leaned out and 
bawled loud enough to be heard above the con¬ 
tinued uproar, “Hey, Hank! There’s a gen’le- 
man here wants to git out to Brewster’s. Got a 
couple o’ heavy bags. I said mebbe you’d take 
’im.” 

“All right. Tell ’im to come along!” called 
a big, good-natured voice with something of a 
nasal twang. 

Rodney stepped forward. “That’s mighty 
good of you,” he said, “a great accommodation. 
Is there going to be room for these?” He 
motioned towards his bags. 

“Whew!” Hank left his car and inspected 
the bags with a good deal of interest. “Looks 
like you’ve been to furrin’ parts,” he commented, 
attempting to decipher the vari-colored labels. 
“Sure there’s room fer ’em. I’ll jest stow ’em 
in the back.” And, with Rodney’s assistance, he 
immediately did so. 

“Ever been here before?” he shouted as they 
climbed aboard, and the car, after a series of ex¬ 
plosions, each of which seemed to threaten its 


A WANDERER RETURNS 


187 


complete destruction, sprang forward with a 
violence which nearly sent them from their seats. 

“Oh, yes, I live here,” yelled Rodney. “My 
name is Harrington. I’m a brother of Mrs. 
Brewster’s; but I’ve been abroad for the past 
ten months.” 

“You don’t say!” ejaculated Hank. “Well, 
then, I s’pose you’ve seed about ever’thin’ that’s 
wuth seein’.” 

“I travelled around a bit at first,” Rodney re¬ 
plied at the top of his lungs, “but for the last 
four months I’ve been in Paris.” 

“Paris? Lordy! I s’pose you’ve seed the 
Eefel tower, then,” roared Hank. 

“Yes, indeed.” 

“An’ these-here what-you-call-ums,—gondo- 
leers?” 

“Yes, I spent nearly two weeks with friends in 
Venice.” 

“An’ London Bridge?” 

“I’ve walked across it many times.” 

“Ever seed the Prince o’ Wales?” 

“I’ve seen him playing golf.” 


188 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 

/ 

“Well, I swan!” Hank was so completely over¬ 
come by this statement that for a few blocks he 
rode without speaking. When at length he had 
recovered his speech, however, he remarked with 
an air of satisfaction, “Well, I know som’p’n you 
ain’t seed, an’ that’s our new Post Office, ’cause 
’twa’n’t started till this spring. I’ll drive ye by 
it.” 

“Yes, do. I’d like to see it,” said Rodney. 
“We needed one badly.” 

“You’ve said it!” responded Hank. “An’ let 
me tell yuh, we got a beaut! Here ’tis.” 

They drew up before the little turreted, white- 
stone structure, Hank calling attention to its 
points of excellence with true civic pride. “Ye 
see that light up in the tower?” he asked. “Well 
sir, ye can see that light fer miles!” 

Rodney was properly impressed. 

They drove on, then, through the old familiar 
streets, Rodney commenting upon such improve¬ 
ments as he could observe as they swept along 
their jarring, jangling way: a freshly painted 
block of stores, a new wing on the Grammar 


A WANDERER RETURNS 189 

School, an iron fence around the Baptist Church, 
a gasoline station just beyond the park. 

Hank accepted these remarks with the air of 
one who felt himself personally responsible for 
all these indications of prosperity. 

“I tell you,” he said presently, “Armitage is 
po-gressive. Yes, sir, po-gressive! I’ll bet 
there ain’t nothin’ in Europe or Paris that’s any 
up-to-dater.” 

They were outside the town, now, speeding 
along at a good rate. Rodney suspected that 
Hank was “lettin’ ’er out,” just to show what 
the little car could do when given the opportu¬ 
nity. But, presently, their pace slackened. “I 
alius slow up a bit here,” explained Hank as they 
came in sight of a sharp bend in the road ahead, 
“ ’count of a bad accident they had here last year. 
Some drunks from Curtiss Plains, goin’ sixty an 
hour, so they say, took the turn on the wrong side 
an’ purt’ near run into a car cornin’ from Arm¬ 
itage. The driver o’ that car tried to turn out 
quick, an’ he turned too far an’ went clean over 
the edge. See, there’s quite a drop here?” He 


190 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


waved his arm to indicate the spot; then added, 
“Smashed his car to smithereens, yes, siree, an’ 
killed a little girl.” 

Rodney shuddered. How well he remem¬ 
bered it all!—If only he could forget! 

But Hank, entirely oblivious of the unrespon¬ 
siveness of his companion, continued cheerfully, 
“There’s too much fast drivin’ through these 
parts, an’ too much bootleg licker. Not but 
what I likes a nip myself, occasional—” he 
slapped his hip-pocket significantly,—“but I’m 
purty durn keerful where I gets it.” 

“Well, here we are!” exclaimed Rodney a few 
moments later, as the familiar gate-posts came 
in sight. “Now if you’ll let me out, I’ll walk up. 
I’m awfully obliged to you for giving me a lift. 
Don’t bother to drive in.” He held out his 
hand, knowing better than to offer any payment. 

“ ’Tain’ no bother,” said Hank good na- 
turedly, working Rodney’s arm up and down 
vigorously like a pump-handle. “Stay right in, 

4 

I’ll drive ye to the door.” 

“No,” protested Rodney, “really,—I’d prefer 


A WANDERER RETURNS 


191 


to get out here. I can manage the bags quite 
well for such a short distance.” 

Hank’s countenance betrayed amazement as 
he stopped the car at the foot of the drive. To 
Rodney’s amused fancy, Armitage, figuratively 
speaking, seemed to be always waiting, mouth 
agape, for an explanation to any unforeseen de¬ 
cision; and for some unaccountable reason, he 
always found himself humoring its curiosity. 
He did so now. 

“My sister’s children will be asleep,” he said, 
climbing down from the ancient vehicle, “they 
don’t know I’m coming. I want to steal a march 
on them and surprise them in the morning. You 
know how children are; they love surprises.” 

Hank chuckled. “I don’t blame ye,” he said, 
helping him out with his bags, “an’ this-here 
Ford o’ mine ain’t the silentest thing on wheels, 
neither. I know them kids,—five o’ them, ain’t 
there? Seen em, drivin’ out o’ here with Amos, 
yestiddy. He sets a store by ’em.” 

Rodney came to with a start, suddenly remem¬ 
bering. How natural it had been to think of 


192 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


five! The pain of the reawakened memory 
made him speak sharply. 

“No,” he said “there are only four,—three 
girls and a boy.” 

Hank was plainly disgruntled at his implied 
miscount. “Yes, there was five,” he protested. 
“I seen ’em plain. There was four brown heads 
an’ one goldy.” 

They parted from each other with cordial 
“good-nights,” and Hank’s rear lights disap¬ 
peared down the road amid a noise like a 
mitrailleuse. 

“Must have been the little Smith girl,” mused 
Rodney, his mind dwelling stubbornly upon the 
other’s final statement. 

He stood there in the moonlight, looking about 
him. How the old place tugged at his heart¬ 
strings ! From its dark setting of trees, the well¬ 
loved house, softly lighted and unshuttered, 
glowed like a jewel, all blemishes, for the time 
being, effaced by the moonlight’s fairy fingers. 

“Jean!” he whispered softly, “Jean!” 

How she seemed to dominate the place! 


A WANDERER RETURNS 


193 


He could feel her presence everywhere. There 
was the swing where, so often, he had tossed her 
up among the branches while she gurgled with 
delight; here, the rock where she had bruised her 
little knee; a bush where they had played at 
hide-and-seek; the window where she always 
watched for him. She seemed so near! It 
seemed as if she must hear his heartsick, deso¬ 
late cry, “Jean! Jean! Jean!” 

On tiptoe, Rodney mounted the steps, and 
found the front door standing wide,—no sign of 
Tom or Molly anywhere. 

“Must have gone out for the evening,” he 
muttered, setting down his bags. “I’ll just say 
‘Hello’ to Gussie and then tote these upstairs. 
My word! but they weigh a ton! ” 

With a feeling of depression, he wandered 
through the empty rooms and out to the kitchen, 
where he found Gussie nodding in her chair. 
Had he been doubtful of his welcome, her recep¬ 
tion, alone, would have been enough to reassure 
him, for she all but threw her arms about his 
neck. 


194 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


'Where are all the folks, Gussie?” he asked 
when her excitement had somewhat abated. 

"Well, cose de chilluns is in bed, Mr. Rodney,” 
she replied, "an’ Mr. Tom an’ Mis’ Molly is gone 
to a weddin’ ovah to Curtiss Plains.” 

"Oh, yes, I heard about that,” Rodney an¬ 
swered ruefully. "I guess I’ll go upstairs and 
wash. Do you think I could have a snack when 
I come down?” 

"You suah could, Mr. Rodney,” was Gussie’s 
delighted reply, "I’ll git de coffee on right dis 
minute.” And she straightway began to bustle 
about in a very businesslike manner. 

Rodney made his way upstairs, pausing for 
an instant outside the children’s bedroom door 
where he could here Hilda laughing in her sleep, 
and Sally muttering something about being 
"sorry,” her drowsy voice dwindling away into a 
sob. Then he passed on down the hall to his 
own door, and, opening it, switched on the light. 

The familiar room leaped into view, ready and 
waiting, as he, somehow, knew it would be. No 
one ever caught Molly napping when it came to 


A WANDERER RETURNS 


195 


the matter of arranging for anybody’s comfort 
or happiness. Moreover, she always managed to 
do something to a room which seemed to waken 
it to life; almost as if she left some of her own 
gay spirit there to bid one welcome. There was 
the bed all freshly made, a vase of spicy, old- 
fashioned pinks upon the chiffonier, new books 
and magazines upon the bedside stand, cool 
linen covers for his Morris chair, and close beside 
it, a tabouret with an ash-receiver and his favor¬ 
ite brand of “smokes.” 

He sank down on the bed, and dropped his 
face into his hands, his eyes smarting with the 
pain of unshed tears. For a while he sat there, 
motionless, crushed by a sense of his loss; but 
gradually there began to steal over him a feel¬ 
ing of consolation, almost of happiness, in the 
presence of all these friendly, well-loved objects 
about him. Slowly, the sorrow and bitterness 
of those long, weary months ebbed away, leav¬ 
ing a sense of peace behind. 

And presently he raised his head and looked • 
about him calmly. Here in this quiet place he 


196 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


could forget his pain. It really seemed as if 
his darling were close by, waiting for his return; 
that, at any moment, she might come running 
in to throw her arms about his neck. How often 
he had seen her come dancing through that door 
to welcome him! That door, behind which, 
now, lay only emptiness! But why was it 
closed? It always had stood open. Did they 
think that the sight of the room beyond with all 
its dear reminders would be more than he could 
bear? Why, closing it, seemed like trying to 
shut her and all her winsome memories out of 
his life forever. 

Rodney went to the door and opened it, and 
stood hesitating on the threshold, looking in. 

The little room lay very peaceful in the moon¬ 
light, so quiet, so unchanged, he fancied as he 
stood there he could hear a gentle breath. How 
often he had stood thus looking in upon her as 
she slept! But was this fancy? Was not that 
a sigh ? Slowly his gaze passed round the sacred 
little place, resting in mute caress on each simple 
treasure there: her tiny wicker rocking-chair, 


A WANDERER RETURNS 


197 


her shelf of bedtime story books, her clothes- 
tree with its naked, outstretched arms, her 
patient, faithful Teddy bear, her crib, so small 
and white and lonely in the far corner of the 
room. But, what was this? A dream? A 
miracle? He rubbed his eyes, scarcely daring 
to believe his senses; then looked again and saw 
a golden head upon the pillow, two large eyes 
gazing into his. 

With a single stride Rodney was across the 
room and kneeling by the bedside; his hungry 
arms had closed around the little form so magi¬ 
cally like the one he loved. “Jean!” he whis¬ 
pered brokenly. “My little Jean! You have 
come back to me, again!” 


CHAPTER XI 


UNCLE RODDY 

About an hour later, when Tom and Molly 
returned from the wedding, they were amazed 
to find Rodney, ensconced in Tom’s big easy- 
chair with Natalie upon his knee listening, en¬ 
tranced, to the tale of “The Wolf and the Seven 
Young Kids.” 

“So you’ve made this young lady’s acquaint¬ 
ance already?” said Tom when their greetings 
were over. 

“Yes, and had a complete history of her case 
from Gussie,” replied Rodney, smiling reminis¬ 
cently at the dramatic, though somewhat con¬ 
fused account she had given him. 

“Then there’s nothing more to be said, I’m 
sure,” laughed Tom. 

Rodney looked grave, then he said, “Well, 1 
have something to say, and that is, that it’s got 


19S 


UNCLE RODDY 


199 


to be a pretty strong claim that takes her away 
from me, now. We need each other, don’t we, 
old sweets?” He looked fondly down into the 
blue eyes raised so confidingly to his. 

For answer, Natalie threw both arms around 
his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. 
And when, presently, she dropped off to sleep, 
Rodney turned to Tom with an anxious air. 
“There’s been no mention of her in any of the 
papers?” he asked. 

Tom shook his head. “And no rumor of her 
anywhere,” he added. “And I’ve done consid¬ 
erable scouting about these last few days. Not 
that we’re anxious to get rid of her; we’ve all 
fallen desperately in love with her. But I can’t 
help thinking about the other side of the story, 
for of course there is another side, and some¬ 
where, somebody’s heart must be almost broken 
at losing her.” 

“They should have been more careful of her, 
then,” flared Molly. “When I think of that 
night, that storm, those poor little blistered feet! 
How could they be so heedless? I’d like to know 


200 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


where she came from and how she got here, just 
to satisfy my curiosity, but if it means we’d have 
to give her up, I’d rather let it always be a 
mystery. She’s so happy here with us. I some¬ 
times feel as if she’d never known what a good 
time was until now.” 

“Yes,” agreed Tom, “her whole attitude to¬ 
wards her former life is one of absolute indiffer¬ 
ence. Yet she doesn’t seem like a child who 
has been neglected.” 

“Not physically interposed Molly, “but her 
little soul seems starved. What her life could 
have been, I cannot imagine. Lonely, I judge 
from what the children tell me. Why, since that 
first night when she asked if her mother was here, 
she has hardly mentioned her, nor expressed 
the slightest desire to go home.” 

“Quite the contrary,” laughed Tom. “She 
told us very positively the next morning at 
breakfast, that she intended to stay.” 

“Poor little puss,” sighed Rodney as he laid 
his cheek against the softly-flushed one of the 
sleeping child. 


UNCLE RODDY 


201 


Molly’s eyes grew tender as she watched them. 
“What about your play, Rod?” she asked 
presently. “Let’s see,—what did you name it?” 

“ ‘His Princess’,” answered Rodney, his face 
brightening at mention of it. “And, by the way, 
I must tell you the wonderful streak of luck I 
had in regard to it.” 

Molly leaned forward, her face alight with 
interest. And Rodney, guessing the reason for 

her eagerness, answered smilingly, “No, it hasn’t 

» 

been accepted yet, but I had the good fortune 
to come back on the same boat with Ainslee Car- 
ruthers.” 

“What! ” exclaimed Tom, “the theatrical man¬ 
ager?” 

“The very same,” said Rodney jubilantly. 
“And that isn’t all! He had his niece with him, 
and she turned out to be no other than Susanne 
Fitch, the little star who made such a hit last 
season in ‘Will o’ the Wisp’.” 

“Did you meet her?” asked Molly. 

“Met both of them,” answered Rodney, “and 
what’s more, succeeded in interesting Carruthers 


202 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


in my play. He read it and said he liked it and 
that’s encouraging. He’s about the most dif¬ 
ficult of the New York Managers to get next 
to, and I probably never would have got a read¬ 
ing if I hadn’t had the luck to run into him as 
I did in crossing.” 

“Well, that was luck!” cried Tom delightedly. 

“If he should like it enough to put it on,” 
continued Rodney, “and decide to star her in 
it, I feel confident of its success. For, to tell 
you the truth, I had her in mind when I wrote 
the leading part. It was seeing her performance 
in ‘Will o’ the Wisp’, that gave me the idea for 
my play. It just fairly grew around her, once 
I began to write it. I have only to shut my 
eyes to see her in the part of ‘Yvette’ to hear 
her say the lines. She would be wonderful, 
exquisite!” He broke off abruptly, realizing 
that he had said more than he intended. 

“What’s she like off the stage?” asked Molly 
with a woman’s curiosity. 

“An extremely charming little woman, not 
at all theatrical in either dress or manner,” Rod- 


UNCLE RODDY 203 

ney replied. “And just at present, in some 
trouble, for she was dressed in mourning.” 

“Is she married?” asked Molly. 

“I never heard that she was,” answered Rod¬ 
ney, “but in the theatrical world it’s hard to tell. 
They’re all ‘Miss’, even when they’ve been mar¬ 
ried several times and have grown families. 
However, in this case, it’s pretty safe to say she 
isn’t, for if she were, some one with a ‘nose for 
news’ would surely have discovered it and pub¬ 
lished it broadcast.” 

“Oh, Tom, isn’t it exciting,” cried Molly, her 
cheeks like roses, “to think of Rod being a full- 
fledged playwright?” 

“Don’t count the chickens before they’re 
hatched, Molly,” laughed Rodney, mightily 
pleased in spite of his efforts to conceal it. “It’s 
a mistake to be too optimistic.” 

“I feel in my bones, it’s going to be a suc¬ 
cess!” she answered happily. 

“And let me tell you, Molly has very prognos¬ 
ticating bones,” interposed Tom with a grin. 
“So I prophesy that presently we’ll all of us be 


204 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


living in a sort of reflected glory. As Gussie 
would probably express it, we’ll be very much 
‘sot up’.” 

But Molly did not respond to his banter; she 
was looking at Rodney rather wistfully. “0 
dear,” she said, “I only hope that if it is success¬ 
ful, it won’t take you away from us again. It 
seems so good to have you back. We’ve missed 
you dreadfully.” 

Rodney’s face was sober as he said, “I don’t 
suppose I can make you understand just what it 
means to me to be back. For a long time after 
I left, I felt that I could never bear to see the 
place again. Then, one night, quite suddenly, 
a longing for it seized me. I longed for its big, 
low, pleasant rooms, for the garden and the 
orchard, for the sound of the crickets at night 
and for Gussie’s good home-cooking; but, most 
of all, I wanted to be with some one who be¬ 
longed to me,—who loved me.” He waited for 
his voice to grow steady, and then added, simply, 
“I wanted to see the children.” 

“Dear Roddy,” said Molly softly, “if you 


UNCLE RODDY 205 

only knew how much it means to us to have you 
back!” 

“Once I’d made up my mind to come, I 
couldn’t get here fast enough,” he continued, 
“I could hardly wait till morning to get started. 
Why, if there hadn’t been any other way of 
making it, I’d cheerfully have swam the Atlan¬ 
tic, and crawled the rest of the way on my hands 
and knees.” He looked about the softly lighted 
room with its comfortable, homelike air, and 
drew a deep breath of contentment. “And for 
all my dreaming of it, I never realized quite what 
it meant to me, until to-night,” he said. 

Molly was deeply moved. “I’m glad you 
love it so,” she replied, “Sometimes I used to be 
afraid that you might not want to come back 
— ever. It was hard to answer the children’s 
questions as to when you are coming back, and 
why you stayed so long. Why—why—what’s 
that ?” She broke off suddenly, lifting a warning 
finger. 

But a reply was unnecessary; for at that 
instant, four nightgowned, tousled-headed fig- 


206 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


ures appeared, as if by magic, in the room. 
They surrounded Rodney’s chair and flung them¬ 
selves upon him. “Uncle Roddy! Uncle 
Roddy!” The room resounded with their 
laughter, their happy shouting. Natalie, roused 
from her sleep, added her voice to theirs, and for 
a short time pandemonium reigned. Their 
arms entwined his neck, their eager kisses fell 
upon his cheeks, his neck, his ears. Rodney 
was overcome and speechless. And Gussie, 
attracted by the clamor, thrust her head in at 
the door, grinning broadly; then withdrew as 
suddenly as she had come. 

“How you all have grown!” cried Rodney, 
staggering to his feet, when at length he was able 
to free himself from their fierce embraces. “I 
wouldn’t believe ten months could make such a 
difference! Now, line up, and let me get you 
sorted out!—Why, Bobs, you buster, you’re a 
‘reg’lar feller’ now! Sally’s not as fat as when 
I left. She must be dieting. Phyllis, you’re 
brown as a little Indian. Hilda, you’re as tall 
as your mother, I believe.” 


UNCLE RODDY 


207 


He kissed them all again, taking each little 
face between his hands in the way that Hilda 
loved. 

“Uncle Woddy, wdiere’s your bags?” inquired 
Bobby after a disappointed survey of the room. 

Rodney laughed. “Up in my room,” he 
answered, “two big ones. And to-morrow I'll 
unpack them with your kind assistance.” 

Bobby smiled happily. 

“And now, you rascals,” said Rodney shaking 
his finger at them, playfully, “look me in the eye 
and tell me how you knew I’d come.” 

Phyllis, as usual took the floor. “Well,” she 
said, “we’d all been talking about you so much 
that when I went to sleep, I dreamed that you 
were here. An’ after a while, I woke up, an’ I 
thought I heard you laugh. At first, I didn’t 
know for sure whether it was real or just a dream; 
but I woke up Hilda, an’ we tiptoed out to the 
head of the stairs, and then we could hear your 
voice as plain as anything. So we went back an’ 
woke up Sally and Bobs, and then we all went in 
to get Natalie.” 


208 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


“But when we got to her room, her bed was 
empty. She was gone!” broke in Sally. 

“Yes,” continued Phyllis. “And we were 
afraid her mother had come and taken her away 
while we were sleeping. An’ we felt so awjul, 
that you . . . an’—an’ everything —went 

right out of our heads.” 

Sally nodded confirmation. “We almost 
cried,” she said solemnly. 

“Then all at once, we thought of Uncle 
Roddy,” said Hilda to her mother. “We were 
sure that he would help us get her back. So we 
came downstairs, an’ when we saw him—why, 
there was Natalie, too. So then we knew that 
everything was all right.” 

“Eve’ysing all wight,” echoed Bobby sleepily. 

Molly’s eyes lingered on their glowing faces. 
“ ‘God’s in His heaven,’ ” she quoted, smiling at 
them tenderly. 

“ ‘All’s right with the world!’ ” they shouted 
in instantaneous response. 

The old clock on the landing boomed 
“Twelve.” Bob and Natalie were nodding. 


UNCLE RODDY 209 

“Come now, to bed, again! Instanter!” 
ordered Molly. 

So Tom shouldered Bobby, Rodney carried 
Natalie, and Phyllis and Sally, arm-in-arm, 
pranced on behind. Hilda, however, waited for 
her mother. 

“Mother,” she said dreamily, slipping an arm 
about Molly’s waist, “you know that darling 
little bird down in the arbor that comes an’ sits 
so close to us sometimes when we are quiet?” 

“Yes, dear, the little song-sparrow,” said 
Molly. 

“Well, when he sings to us, he shakes all over 
an’ acts as if he was so happy that he had to sing, 
or burst. Mother, I feel just like that now. I 
wish that I could sing like that, to-night.” 


CHAPTER XII 




THE BLOW FALLS 

“Uncle Roddy, when are you going to sing 
for us?” 

It was Phyllis who asked the question in a 
rather plaintive voice. Breakfast was over, 
and the family had assembled on the wide, 
sunny verandah at the side of the house. Here, 
Molly busied herself with the contents of a 
heaped-up darning-basket, while the two men 
settled down to enjoy a quiet smoke. The 
children, however, were restless. They had 
planned a full day for Uncle Roddy, and were 
impatient to have him to themselves. 

“I think Uncle Roddy ought to be allowed 
to do as he likes the first morning he’s here, 
don’t you?” asked Molly. 

“I know what he wants to do,” said Bobby, 
who had been hovering about the swing in which 


210 


THE BLOW FALLS 


211 


his idol lay. “You know, Uncle Woddy, som’p’n 
upstairs. Bags!” he added in a loud whisper. 

Rodney laughed. “Right you are, old man,” 
he said. “I didn’t forget. We’ll attend to the 
matter as soon as I finish this cigarette.” 

Bobby’s face became wreathed in smiles. 
“I didn’t forget, eiver,” he remarked with an 
absurdly self-righteous air. 

“Your memory, Bobs, is something marvel¬ 
lous,” chuckled Tom. 

“ ’Specially about presents,” added Sally with 
a knowing look. 

Rodney raised his eyebrows. “Who said any¬ 
thing about presents?” he asked innocently. 
Whereat Sally got very red, and Bobby looked 
decidedly worried. 

He watched with ill-concealed impatience 
while the cigarette slowly dwindled; and when 
at length, it was entirely consumed, pounced 
upon his victim, like a small bird of prey, and 
conveyed him to the upper regions, sternly for¬ 
bidding the others to follow. So, obedient to 
his command, though silently protesting, the 


212 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


little girls remained behind, a disconsolate group 
about the newel-post. 

It was hard, indeed, to wait below, within ear¬ 
shot of those tantalizing sounds. But not for 
worlds would they have gone to a more distant 
spot where the sounds would have been inau¬ 
dible. There were squeals and loud, excited cries 
from Bobby, mysterious thumps and the rustling 
of paper, hearty laughter from Uncle Roddy, 
and the low-toned rumble of his voice. Then 
after what seemed to the small listeners an 
eternity, at last, at last, the sound of their return¬ 
ing footsteps. Could anything have been more 
welcome? 

“Sorry to have kept you waiting, ladies,” called 
Rodney’s cheery voice, and looking up, they 
saw him smiling at them over the balustrade. 

“It would have taken considerably longer if 
I had not had such able and enthusiastic assist¬ 
ance,” he continued as Bobby appeared at the 
head of the stairs, his arms loaded with bundles, 
his small body almost bursting with importance. 
Rodney followed close behind him with more 


THE BLOW FALLS 213 

bundles. To the weary watchers below, it was 
a captivating sight. 

“Now, all hands line up,” commanded Rodney, 
halting on the landing and putting down his 
load. And as Tom and Molly, attracted by the 
excitement, appeared in the doorway, he called, 
“Tell Gussie I want her, too.” Whereupon that 
individual appeared, dish-towel in hand, as if 
suddenly materialized out of space. 

“Ah, there she is, and my old friend Maudie 
May, as well!” he cried delightedly, at sight of 
the eager little black face peering out from 
behind Gussie’s portly form. 

“Now I guess we’re ready to begin,” said Rod¬ 
ney, gazing down at the row of expectant, up¬ 
turned faces in the hall below. “Here, Bobs, 
you hand the packages to me and we’ll see who’s 
good at catching. The first seems to be for 
Hilda. Here you are! Good catch, sweet¬ 
heart! Now Sally! Ah, there, you missed it! 
Glad it wasn’t breakable. Phyllis, watch out, 
now; this one might break! Molly, here’s one 
for you! Gussie, this came straight from gay 


214 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


Paree! Natalie, hold out your skirt, and I’ll 
toss this into it! Tom, old scout, you’re in this 
too! Maudie May, don’t giggle so, or you’ll 
muff this, sure as fate!” 

Such shrieks of laughter as he bombarded them 
with gifts; as gloves, toys, handkerchiefs, and 
souvenirs of every description came showering 
down! Such cries of wonder and delight as each 
package was opened and its contents came to 
light! Such wild excitement and hullabaloo 
in general! Christmas in July! 

At last, when all the presents had been looked 
at and admired a dozen times, and Rodney had 
been thanked, kissed and congratulated on the 
good taste displayed in his selections, Phyllis 
again broached the subject of a song. 

“All right,” said Rodney, good-naturedly, 
going over to the piano, “What shall it be?” 

“Oh, ‘Danny Deever,’ of course” they cried 
with one accord. 

“Sure you won’t be frightened?” 

“We love to be frightened! We love to get 
all cold and shivery!” they declared. And as 


THE BLOW FALLS 


215 


Rodney started the familiar prelude, the little 
girls, shuddering in delicious anticipation, hud¬ 
dled in one corner of the sofa, while Bobby, in¬ 
wardly quaking, but with an outward show of 
bravado, sat by himself, astride the back. 

“What are the bugles blowin’ for?” said Files-on-Parade, 
“To turn you out, to turn you out,” the Color-Sergeant 
said. 

“What makes you look so white, so white?” said Files-on- 
Parade. 

“I’m dreadin’ what I’ve got to watch,” the Color-Sergeant 
said. 

“For they’re hangin’ Danny Deever, you can hear the 
Dead March play. 

The Regiment’s in ’ollow square,— they’re hangin’ him 
to-day. 

They’ve taken of his buttons off an’ cut his stripes away. 
An’ they’re hangin’ Danny Deever in the mornin’.” 

How they did love it! Rodney, who was a 
skilled performer, had lost none of his ability to 
thrill that little audience. They seemed fairly 
to drink in words and music with all their eyes 
and ears. Even Bobby, though he barely under¬ 
stood what it was all about, stopped wriggling, 
and listened with wide, solemn eyes to the very 


216 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


end. And when the last crashing chord had been 
struck, and Rodney swung around on the piano 
bench to face them once more, he asked in an 
awestruck whisper, “Did he—did he die?” 

“I’m inclined to think he did, sonny,” 
answered Tom. 

“Uncle Roddy,” said Hilda, “a man sang 
‘Danny Deever’ over the radio last week.” 

“It didn’t sound the same as when you sing it, 
though,” remarked Sally. 

“0 my goodness,—I should say not!” 
Phyllis’s tone was decidedly scornful. “He 
didn’t make us feel the least bit creepy. He only 
bleated like a poor sick sheep.” 

They all laughed at the recollection. 

“So, at last you’ve succumbed to the popular 
hobby,” grinned Rodney, turning to Tom. I 
thought you were inclined to class all radio own¬ 
ers among the feeble-minded.” 

Tom smiled ruefully. “So I was,” he admit¬ 
ted. “But that was because I had become prej¬ 
udiced against them. They are a nuisance in 
the hands of thoughtless or ignorant people, 



THE BLOW FALLS 


217 


blaring away at all hours of the day or night, 
broadcasting stuff that’s a positive insult to the 
intelligence of the great American public. But, 
like everything else, they have their good points, 
and since Molly gave me this one for Christmas, 
I’ve really become quite a fan.” 

“Where do you keep it?” asked Rodney, look¬ 
ing about. 

At this question, Bobby suddenly became ac¬ 
tive. “Wait!” he called imperiously, beginning 
to clamber down from his lofty perch. “I’ll 
show you!” 

And crossing the room to Molly’s antique desk, 
he mounted a convenient chair, and threw open 
its leaded glass doors with the grand air of a 
showman exhibiting his choicest wares. 

“See? Here it is!” he announced in the gruff 
little voice he always affected when feeling 
rather important. And there, fitted neatly into 
the shelf-space intended for books, was a fine 
radio set. 

Rodney whistled. “Shades of Governor Win- 
throp!” he exclaimed, “that a desk of Puritan 


218 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


ancestry should be a party to such deception!” 

“Want me to turn it on?” asked Bobby, eager 
to show his familiarity with the mysterious new 
toy. 

“By all means,” answered Rodney, “if you’re 
sure that you know how.” 

“Course I do,” was that young man’s com¬ 
placent reply. “But, where’s Natty? I want 
her to see me do it.” 

“Oh, Bobs!” groaned Molly, as she rolled up 
a pair of Sally’s small white socks, “I do hope 
you’re not going to be a ‘show-off’.” 

Bobby’s under lip pushed itself out stub¬ 
bornly. “I want her to see me do it,” he re¬ 
peated firmly. 

“She and Sally went to find Maudie May,” 
said Hilda. “They’ll be back in a minute, I 
guess.” 

Phyllis chuckled. “I bet they won’t be back 
at all” she remarked. Don’t you smell some¬ 
thing?” 

Bobby sniffed the air; then his face under¬ 
went a complete change. 


THE BLOW FALLS 


219 


“Cookies!’’ he squealed, and began to 
scramble down, entirely forgetful of his self- 
imposed task. And while they roared with 
laughter, he made a hasty exit. 

Tom laid down his pipe and strolled over to 
the instrument. “I guess it’s up to me to start 
it, then,” he said, beginning to manipulate the 
dials. “I had Chicago yesterday. Suppose we 
see what one of the New York stations has for us 
this morning.” 

There followed considerable whanging and 
squealing. “That’s static,” explained Phyllis, 
putting her hands over her ears to shut out the 
din. And then, quite suddenly the discord 
ceased and a loud voice spoke from a disk on the 
wall, directly above their heads. 

“Station WZHK,” it said, “Missing Persons Bureau 
broadcasting. Five Thousand Dollars reward is offered 
for the return of Natalie Gray, missing since July 15th. 
She is four years old, three feet five inches tall, yellow 
curly hair, blue eyes, birthmark like small red clover leaf 
on the left arm just below the shoulder. Last seen at 
Park Avenue and Sixty-third Street, New York City. 
Address all communications to Missing Persons Bureau, 
240 Center Street, New York City.” 


220 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


Whatever else the voice may have said, none 
of them knew. They all sat as if turned to 
stone, gazing at each other with unseeing eyes. 

Hilda was the first one to speak. “Why— 
why, Mother,” she said in a frightened voice, 
“that’s our Natalie.” 

Molly nodded; she dared not trust herself to 
reply. Though she had been expecting news 
of this sort every day for the past week, now it 
had actually come, it was in the nature of a 
shock. All the strength seemed to go out of 
her, leaving her as weak and nerveless as if she 
had been through a severe illness. 

The two little girls were looking at her with 
pitiful, terror-stricken faces which had suddenly 
gone pale. She must not let them see how badly 
she was feeling. So, summoning all her will 
power, she said to them calmly, “I wish you girls 
would take Bobby’s express cart and go out to 
the orchard and see how many apples you can 
pick up. Gussie wants to make some pies for 
dinner, and you know apple pie is Uncle Roddy’s 
favorite.” 


THE BLOW FALLS 


221 


“But, Mother/’ began Phyllis in a tone of 
anguish. Molly shook her head and motioned 
them to go, saying as they crept sadly away, “I 
wouldn’t say anything about this to the others, 
dears. They will have to know it soon enough.” 

“Well,” she said, dully, when they had gone, 
“it’s come at last. I was beginning to hope that 
we might keep her.” 

Rodney did not answer. He had not moved 
from the spot where he was standing when the 
radio started; and, looking at him, Molly saw on 
his face an expression of blank despair. 

Tom switched off the radio. “I suppose I’d 
better drive into town after lunch and send a 
telegram,” he said. He took out his watch and 
looked at it in an abstracted sort of way. 
“Eleven o’clock,” he muttered. Then, going 
over to a window, he stood looking out. 

There was a long silence, through which, 
dimly, they could hear Bob’s and Natalie’s dis¬ 
tant chatter. Then Molly said miserably, 
“They will be simply heartbroken.” 

“So shall we all,” said Tom. “I tell you I 


222 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


feel exactly as if I were having to give up one of 
my very own. She has crept into our hearts—” 
he stopped and cleared his throat. “Perhaps, 
after all, I’d better go right away,” he said. 
“There’s time before lunch, and I suppose every 
moment of delay must seem a year to those who 
are waiting for news. Will you come with me, 
Rod?” 

“Thanks,” said Rodney, “I guess I will. I 
have a couple of errands in town. Are you com¬ 
ing, Molly?” 

“No, Roddy,” answered Molly with her face 
averted. “The children may need me, and, be¬ 
sides, I feel about as jolly as a—a—a graveyard.” 
Her chin began to tremble. In spite of her 
womanliness, there was still a good deal of the 
child in Molly. 

She watched the two men drive away, and 
then went sorrowfully up to her own room, for 
she felt that she wanted to be alone; but even 
that comfort was denied her, for she had 
scarcely closed the door when she heard a gentle 
tap upon it and there stood Hilda. 


THE BLOW FALLS 


223 


“Mother,” she said, gazing at Molly with a 
woebegone expression on her usually sunny 
face, “is Father going to send word to those 
people in New York that Natalie is here?” 

“Why, yes, dear, of course. It would be 
wrong not to.” 

Hilda came in and seated herself on the edge 
of the bed. Then she said in a low voice as if 
speaking to herself rather than to Molly, 
“Natalie’s mother will come an’ take her away 
from us, I s’pose.” 

“Yes, I suppose she will,” answered Molly. 

There was a long pause. Hilda seemed 
absorbed in watching her foot as she rubbed it 
slowly backwards and forwards across the rug. 
Then she looked up suddenly and said, “Mother, 
if we hadn’t turned on the radio just then, we 
never would have known.” 

“Oh, yes, we should have learned of it in some 
other way,” replied Molly. “We were bound 
to hear of it sooner or later.” 

Hilda began to weep softly. “But we’ve had 
her such a little while,” she said. 


224 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


“But the longer we had her, the harder it 
would be to give her up/’ replied Molly. 

Hilda’s whole soul was in her eyes as she 
raised them to Molly’s. “Mother, dear,” she 
pleaded, “let’s pertend we didn’t turn it on. 
Let’s pertend we didn’t know. Don’t let Father 
send the message. We love her so, an’ she 
doesn’t want to go home. She wants to stay 
with us. She said so over an’ over. Please, 
Mother.—Please ask Father not to. He doesn’t 
want her to go and neither do you or Uncle 
Roddy—or Gussie—or—or anybody. When 
people love a little girl so much, she ought to 
belong to them.” 

“Why, Hilda, dear!” Molly sat down beside 
her and stroked the brown curls tenderly. Her 
own eyes were wet. “We must remember, 
dear,” she said, “that no matter how much we 
love her, her mother loves her more.” 

“She can’t,” flamed Hilda, “or she wouldn’t 
let her get lost.” 

Molly was silent, remembering how recently 
she had made use of the same argument, her- 



THE BLOW FALLS 


225 


self. But Hilda was rapidly becoming hyster¬ 
ical; she clung to her mother, while sobs racked 
her slender body. “Don’t let them take her 
away from us,” she begged. “We can’t give her 
up, Mother, we can’t—we can’t!” 

“Hush, Hilda, hush!” soothed Molly. 

“Mother, it was so terrible when little Jeanie 
went,” said Hilda when she had grown a little 
calmer. “You don’t know how we missed her 
until Natalie came. Now if they take her away 
from us, it’ll be just like losing Jeanie all over 
again.” At the thought, her tears began to 
flow afresh. Molly stooped and kissed her. 

“Now, dear,” she said, “we must all look at this 
thing sensibly. It’s hard, I know, hard for all 
of us, for we all love her dearly. But that’s life, 
Hilda. We have to learn to take the bitter with 
the sweet. Now, you lie here on my bed for 
awhile until you’re feeling better; and then get 
up and wash your face and be a brave little girl. 
You must be a good example to the others. 
They will feel so badly when they hear.” 

“Yes, Phyllis feels just awful ” said Hilda, 


226 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


“an’ we had to tell Sally, ’cause she saw that 
something was the matter. And when she heard 
what it was, she cried so hard it made her sick. 
She’s lying on the grass down in the orchard, 
an’ Phyllis is rubbing her head.” 

“Poor dears!” cried Molly, “I must go down 
and try to comfort them.” And so saying, she 
wisely left Hilda to cry herself out. 


CHAPTER XIII 


A NEW DEVELOPMENT 

Molly had been invited to a “Bridge” that 
afternoon, but as the hour for it drew near, she 
was in some indecision about leaving the chil¬ 
dren. 

“If it were any one but the wife of the Pres¬ 
ident of the University, who was giving it, I 
wouldn’t go,” she declared, after sending them 
upstairs to rest. “But I feel as if I ought not 
to back out at the last minute without a better 
excuse.” She sighed, and added sadly, “Poor 
dears, they are so unhappy. I wonder if it 
would be dreadful for me to stay at home.” 

“Nonsense!” exclaimed Tom who was in¬ 
clined to scoff at her anxiety, “of course you must 
go. The children will be all right. Gussie can 
look after them and, besides, Rod and I will be 
here. He’s going to help me clean the car. We 


227 


228 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


got a new kind of polish when we were in town. 
A man was demonstrating it in front of the Post 
Office. If it does all he claims for it, you won’t 
recognize your old Packarderm when I call for 
you after the party.” 

“Don’t work too hard,” cautioned Molly as 
he started in the direction of the garage. 

Then she made herself ready, not, however, 
without some misgivings; and just before leav¬ 
ing, stepped to the children’s bedroom for a final 
glance at them. It did her heart good to find 
that they were sleeping, and to know that, for 
the time at least, their troubles were forgotten. 
As she moved noiselessly about the room, pull¬ 
ing down the shades and looping back the cur¬ 
tains, she felt easier in her mind. Perhaps, 
after all, the wound had not been so deep as she 
had feared. She stood looking down at their 
tranquil faces as they lay at her feet, stretched 
full-length on quilts upon the floor; and her 
heart swelled with pity at the thought of the 
sorrow that lay in store for them. 

“0 dear,” she mused, “no matter how much we 


A NEW DEVELOPMENT 


229 


love them, we can’t keep trouble out of their 
lives. They have to meet it sometime. The 
best we can do is to teach them to face it like 
brave soldiers.” 

Then, running down to the kitchen, she gave 
Gussie a few parting instructions in regard to 
them. 

“Be patient with them, Gussie,” she pleaded, 
“their hearts are very sore.” 

Gussie, polishing the silver coffee-urn with a 
piece of soft chamois, did not raise her eyes as 
Molly spoke. But she nodded her head slowly. 
“I took note o’ dat, Mis’ Molly,” she answered 
soberly. “Some o’ dem been cryin’, an’ dey 
didn’t eat no lunch, sca’cely.” 

“Yes, I know.” Molly hesitated about break¬ 
ing the news to Gussie, for in the few days 
Natalie had been with them, the old colored 
woman had become her devoted slave. 

“Let them sleep as long as they will,” she said, 
feeling the reproach of Gussie’s averted eyes; 
for, as Tom had said, Gussie was more or less of 
an institution, having shared the joys and sor- 


230 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


rows of the Brewster household since the days 
when Tom was Bobby’s age. 

“Yaas, Mis’ Molly,” answered Gussie, giving 
the glittering urn a final rub and setting it up on 
the table before her. 

The meek reply was more than Molly could 
stand. She laid a gentle hand on Gussie’s arm 
and said, “Gussie, I have bad news to tell you. 
Natalie’s people have advertised for her. The 
word came over the radio this morning. She’ll 
have to leave us soon, I’m afraid. She doesn’t 
know it yet, and neither does Bobby; but the 
older children do, and are just heartbroken.” 

Thoughout this recital, Gussie sat immov¬ 
able, her black eyes fixed on Molly’s face with an 
almost vacant stare. At its conclusion, how¬ 
ever, she asked in a dull voice, “You mean she 
gwine to leave us, Mis’ Molly?” 

“Yes, Gussie,” answered Molly sadly. 

There was no such thing as fraud in Gussie’s 
make-up; both in thoughts and actions she was 
as guileless as a child, and she showed this 
plainly now. With a low moan she let her hands 


A NEW DEVELOPMENT 


231 


drop limply into her lap, while her chin sank 
slowly to her bosom and she began to sway back¬ 
wards and forwards in time to a rhythmic, dron¬ 
ing chant: 

“Mah honey chile, she gwine away, she gwine 
away, she gwine away.” 

A lump came into Molly’s throat. “Try not 
to take it too hard, Gussie,” she said. “We’re 
all going to miss her. You must remember 
that.” 

“She gwine away, she gwine away, she gwine 
away,” mourned Gussie without raising her 
head. 

Molly turned and fled down the drive. 

“Where’s my chauffeur?” she called as she 
came in sight of the two coatless and perspiring 
figures in the doorway of the garage. 

“Whew, Molly!” exclaimed Rodney at sight 
of the rose-colored vision, “you’re certainly a 
winner in that outfit!” 

“Isn’t she?” agreed Tom admiringly. “And 
let me tell you this, Rod, all on the quiet, there 
won’t be another person at that party who can 


232 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


hold a candle to my girl, for looks, or brains, 
either. Just wait a minute, honey, till I get my 
coat on.” Then he helped her into the car and, 
hopping in beside her, they drove quickly away, 
Molly waving a reluctant farewell. 

“I'll be right back, Rod,” called Tom over his 
shoulder. 

“Take your time; I’ll find plenty to do,” 
answered Rodney. 

He strolled aimlessly down the drive after 
the departing car and, halting between the two 
stone pillars which marked the entrance, looked 
out across the rolling countryside. Almost in¬ 
voluntarily, his gaze travelled in the direction 
of the Hobbs Hollow road, and through nar¬ 
rowed eyelids, he seemed to see a small, deter¬ 
mined figure, trudging along its dusty length. 
“Poor little puss,” he murmured. 

But his reverie was short-lived. It was inter¬ 
rupted presently, by a series of sounds closely 
resembling the din of a boiler factory. 

“Methinks friend Hank draweth nigh,” he 
said, turning to look in the direction of Armi- 


A NEW DEVELOPMENT 233 

tage, whence a cloud of dust was rapidly ap¬ 
proaching. 

He stepped out into the road and, standing 
very stiff and straight, saluted as the car came 
abreast of him. Recognizing his passenger of 
the night before, Hank applied the brakes with 
such force that they screamed as though in 
mortal agony. 

“Howdy,” he called with a friendly grin. 

“How are you, Hank?” said Rodney, stepping 
over to the car. Then fishing in his pocket 
for his cigarette-case, he held it out. “Have a 
smoke?” he asked. 

“Don’t mind if I do,” was Hank’s reply as he 
helped himself generously, putting one into his 
mouth and three into the pocket of his alpaca 
coat. Then, lighting up and crossing one leg 
over the other, he settled back for a comfortable 
chat, remarking genially, “I ain’t so crazy about 
these little fellers. Seegars is my usual smoke.” 

“Sorry I haven’t any to offer you,” said Rod¬ 
ney, highly amused. 

“Oh, these’ll do all right,” Hank answered, 


234 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


puffing away, “but next time you’re down to 
Armitage, go to the newspaper store right next 
to Durfee’s Grocery, an’ ask fer ‘Lady Claires’, 
three fer a nickel, they’re great!” 

Rodney promised to do so at his earliest oppor¬ 
tunity, mentally observing that, if his friend¬ 
ship with Hank continued to thrive, it would be 
well to lay in a goodly supply. 

They continued a pleasant exchange of re¬ 
marks for a few moments; then, all at once, 
Hank leaned down out of his car and said in 
slightly lowered tones as if fearful of being over¬ 
heard, “I hear ye had a streak o’ luck.” 

Rodney looked perplexed. “Luck?” he re¬ 
peated blankly, “that’s news to me. I don’t 
know what you mean.” 

Hank wagged his head with a knowing 
chuckle, as much as to say, “You know, but you 
won’t admit it.” 

“No, really,” said Rodney, “no joshing!—I 
don’t know what you’re driving at.” 

Hank showed his incredulity. “Most people 
would think it was good luck if they had five 


A NEW DEVELOPMENT 235 

thousand dollars throwed into their lap,” he 
remarked dryly. 

“Oh, come across with it, Hank,” said Rodney, 
not, however, without a dawning realization as 
to what he meant. 

“We-e-ell,” drawled Hank, “I jest heard the 
news over to Armitage. I druv in to git some 
Mason jars fer my wife, she’s cannin’ strawber¬ 
ries to-day, an’ run low on jars. Well, I stopped 
in to Mike MacDowell’s Pool Room fer a chat 
with the fellers, an’ while I was there, word came 
over his radio that there’s a reward o’ jive 
thousand dollars fer a little girl that’s been lost. 
An’ someone was sayin’ that you’ve got the little 
girl. Now, I call that a streak o’ luck, don’t 
you?” 

Rodney did not reply at once; Hank, mean¬ 
while, regarding him with frank curiosity. 
Then he said, “To tell you the truth, we, none of 
us, had given a thought to the reward.” He 
hesitated, wondering if it would be wasted 
breath to try to explain just what their feelings 
were in the matter. He decided to risk it. 


236 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


“You see, we all happen to be extremely fond 
of the little girl/’ he began; when Hank cut him 
short with a low whistle. “An’ you’re not goin’ 
to claim the reward?” he asked in amazement. 

“Why, no, of course not,” Rodney answered. 

“My eye!” exclaimed Hank, looking at him 
as if he thought he had gone crazy, “Five 
thousand dollars goin’ to waste! Five—thou¬ 
sand—dollars!” His jaw dropped; he looked 
not only astonished, but bewildered. 

Rodney began to regret that he had been so 

0*- 

outspoken. 

“Well,” said Hank, coming to with a start, 
“I must be gettin’ along home with these-here 
jars. My old woman will be a-hollerin’ fer ’em. 
She told me I should come right back—” he 
winked broadly at Rodney—“an’ I been gone 
since ten o’clock! Some tongue-lashin’ I’ll git! 
But jest wait till I tell ’er about that five thou¬ 
sand dollars, it’ll take her breath so she won’t 
have none left to use on me.” His voice was 
lost in the unearthly din of starting the car. As 
it leaped forward, Hank leaned out and shouted 



A NEW DEVELOPMENT 


237 


a parting reminder. “Don’t forgit them 'Lady 
Claires’!” he shrieked, and was gone. 

Rodney stood looking after him, but 
his thoughts were not of “Lady Claires.” 
“Humph!” he ejaculated with a worried look, 
“here’s a development we had not thought of. 
I must put Tom and Molly wise.” 


CHAPTER XIV 


MUTINY 

The day was sultry, and, exhausted by the 
violence of their grief, the children slept soundly. 
Gussie peered cautiously in at them at inter¬ 
vals ; but seeing no signs of their awakening, tip¬ 
toed silently back to the kitchen and resumed 
her tasks there. “Bress dey poo’ lid hearts!” 
she muttered from time to time, wiping her eyes 
on the corner of her apron. 

It was late in the afternoon when Phyllis 
opened her eyes and stared drowsily up at the 
shifting shadows on the ceiling, as the window- 
shades puffed slowly into the room and then were 
sucked back again by a passing zephyr. As she 
lay there, dazed and motionless, a strange, un¬ 
accountable sense of depression seemed to weigh 
upon her like the folds of a wet blanket. It was 
not unlike the feeling one has when suddenly 


238 


MUTINY 


239 


awakened from a bad dream; and she searched 
her mind for some plausible explanation of it. 

Hilda, over nearer the window, moaned softly 
in her sleep, and, all at once, Phyllis remem¬ 
bered. This was no dream; it was a fact. 
Natalie was going away, and there was no help 
for it. 

"It’s—it’s rotten!” she said to herself, mak¬ 
ing use of an expression only resorted to in cases 
of direst need. "I wish I could think of some¬ 
thing—some way—” Almost as the wish formed 
itself, her active mind seemed to see a solu¬ 
tion, and creeping over to where Hilda lay, she 
cuddled down beside her. "Hilda,” she whis¬ 
pered in her ear, "wake up. I want to talk to 
you.” 

Hilda opened her eyes, and seeing Phyllis’s 
face so close to hers, sat up in alarm. "What’s 
the matter?” she asked in a frightened whisper, 
"Have they come for Natalie?” Then as she 
looked past Phyllis and saw the little sleeping 
form close by, she lay down again with a sigh of 
relief. 


240 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


“Hush. Don’t wake the others/’ said Phyllis, 
her lips close to Hilda’s ear. “I’ve thought of 
a scheme so we won’t have to let Natalie go.” 

Hilda’s brown eyes opened wide with joy. 
“Oh, Phyllis, you’re so clever!” she exclaimed, 
hugging her sister ecstatically. “But, are you 
sure it’ll work?” 

“Sure!” declared Phyllis confidently. “Now 
listen! S’pose when Natalie’s mother comes 
for her, Natalie isn’t here. She can’t take her 
away, then, can she?” 

“But, Phyll—” began Hilda looking puzzled. 

“Wait till I finish,” commanded Phyllis in a 
matter-of-fact tone. “Now, all we’ve got to do 
is to see to it that she isn’t here.” 

“But how can we do that?” 

“Hide her!” 

“Mother would never let us do anything like 
that.” 

“We musn’t let Mother know anything about 
it.” 

“Oh, Phyll, we always tell her everything!” 
objected Hilda in dismay. 


MUTINY 


241 


“Look here, we can explain the whole thing 
to her afterwards/’ said Phyllis, “an’ she’s sure 
to understand. Anyway, wouldn’t it be better to 
keep a secret from her for a few days than to 
have to give up Natalie forever?” 

“Oh, of course,” Hilda’s reply, though hesi¬ 
tating, was sincere. “Only—only I wish, Phylly, 
there was some other way.” 

“Well, so do I,” said Phyllis, “but there isn’t, 
so I guess we’ll just have to go ahead and make 
the best of it.” 

They talked about the plan in whispers until 
it seemed to them perfect in every detail. But 
a sudden disturbing thought made Hilda ex¬ 
claim with a tragic air, “0 my goodness, we for¬ 
got Bobby! What’ll we do about him? He 
can never keep a secret. He’s sure to tell Mother 
or Gussie or somebody.” 

“Leave him to me,” said Phyllis darkly. “I’ll 
manage him! That is,” she added quickly, “un¬ 
less Mother should try to make him tell.” 

“Oh, she’d never do that” said Hilda, “she’s 
too fair” 


242 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


“Well, the sooner we get started, the better,” 
said Phyllis, sighing. “We’ve got a good chance 
now while Mother’s at the party.” 

“0 my,—so soon?” cried Hilda. “I thought 
we’d wait till we heard when Natalie’s mother 
was coming, an’ then hide her.” 

“No, that may be too late. We’d better do 
it right away so as to be on the safe side,” replied 
Phyllis with wise foresight. 

So the two plotters woke up Sally and un¬ 
folded their plan to her eagerly. She heartily 
approved of it and added many practical sug¬ 
gestions. Then came the task of telling the 
two little ones. 

They wakened readily when Phyllis spoke 
their names, and sat up, yawning. “Who wants 
to hear a secret?” she asked, sitting down on the 
floor and putting an arm around each. All signs 
of sleepiness vanished like magic. 

“I do,” said Natalie promptly. 

“Me, too,” added Bobby. 

Phyllis looked at him thoughtfully. “I— 
don’t know,” she said slowly, turning to the other 


MUTINY 243 

girls as if in indecision. “Bobby’s so little. Do 
you think we ought to tell him?” 

“No,” said Sally promptly. “Let’s not.” 

“What do you say, Hilda?” asked Phyllis. 

Hilda, moved to pity at sight of his downcast 
face, said, “Why, yes, if he’ll promise not to tell.” 

Bobby looked grateful. In Hilda, he felt that 
he had at least one friend. “I won’t tell,” he 
said tremulously. “I’m a big boy. I can keep 
a secret.” 

“But you promised not to tell when we had 
that rubber egg to fool Gussie with, an’ you told 
her right away and spoiled our joke,” Phyllis 
reminded him. 

It was useless to deny this accusation; the 
prosecution had too many witnesses. Bobby’s 
head drooped as if the burden of guilt was too 
great for his small shoulders. “I was on’y just 
a little baby, then,” he said meekly. 

Phyllis could not help laughing. “That was 
only last week, Bobs,” she said. 

“Well, I won’t tell this time, honest, Phylly,” 
he pleaded. 


244 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


“All right, then, we’ll give you one more 
chance,” Phyllis replied impressively. “But— 
remember —if you tell this time, it’s the last, the 
very, ver-r-ry last secret we ever let you in on.” 

“I’ll merember,” smiled Bobby happily. 
“Now tell us quick.” 

“Well, listen, then,” Phyllis attacked the 
subject in her usual direct way, “Natalie is 
going home. They are coming to get her and 
take her away from us.” 

“Who?” asked Natalie with a frightened face. 
“Dulcie an’—an’ the man with red hair?” 

“I don’t know for sure,” Phyllis replied 
mysteriously, “but I guess prob’ly it’s only your 
mother.” 

Natalie began to cry. “I don’t want to go!” 
she said. Then, with stubborn determination, 
she added, “I won’t go!” 

Phyllis shot Hilda a triumphant glance. “I 
knew you didn’t want to go,” she said, cuddling 
her close. “An’ we don’t want you to go, either. 
So this is our secret. We know a lovely 
place where you can go and hide till after your 


MUTINY 


245 


mother, or whoever comes for you, has gone 
back home. Then you won’t have to go with 
them. You can live with us always, and be our 
little sister just as you said you wanted to. 
Won’t that be nice?” 

“Where is the place?” asked Natalie. 

“Just near.” 

“But I want to stay here. I don’t want to go 
any other place at all” 

Hilda knelt down on the floor and put both 
arms about the little girl. “Please, Natalie 
darling, please say you’ll go,” she begged. 

“Is it a nice place?” asked Natalie. “Won’t 
I be afraid?” 

“Afraid? No, you’ll love it!” cried the three 
girls in one breath. 

“Can I come back pretty soon?” 

“Yes, just as soon as your mother goes,” they 
promised, eagerly. 

“But I want to see my mother. She—she’s 
nice.” 

The children looked at each other in despair. 
Had all their careful planning been in vain? 



246 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


They were helpless if she refused to go. It was 
Bobby, in the end, who saved the day. 

“She isn’t nice,” he declared solemnly, “ ’cause 
she’s goin’ to take you ’way off, an’ we’ll never 
see you any more.” 

Natalie looked at the circle of anxious faces 
about her, and her eyes were troubled. “I don’t 
want to go away,” she repeated, and her lip 
began to tremble, “I guess I’d better hide.” 


CHAPTER XV 


WHERE IS NATALIE? 

Tom called for Molly about six o’clock, and 
found her flushed and strangely silent, and with 
a defiant sparkle in her dark eyes. The news 
that the child for whom a reward of five thousand 
dollars had been offered was at the Brewsters’ 
had spread like wildfire; and from the moment 
of her arrival, Molly had been literally bom¬ 
barded with questions concerning the little girl. 
Moreover, she had been obliged to listen to all 
sorts of ridiculous rumors and speculations re¬ 
garding her, all of which she had accepted good- 
naturedly, as being only a feminine method of 
expressing interest. But the thing that she 
found it hard to understand and excuse, was the 
attitude of these women imregard to the reward. 

“Five thousand dollars!” exclaimed her host¬ 
ess. “What an extremely lucky little woman 
you are, Mrs. Brewster!” 


247 


248 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


“I only wish I were in your shoes,” sighed an¬ 
other. While one of her closer friends remarked, 
“It’s come just at the psychological moment, 
Molly. Now you and Tom can join our party 
to the Yellowstone next month.” 

Molly flushed. “Oh, we’re not going to take 
the money,” she said hastily. “I hope they . 
won’t expect us to. We really hadn’t given that 
part of it a second thought.” 

The silence which greeted this remark, was 
filled with disapproval. Then Mrs. Smith was 
heard to say in a careless undertone, “There 
are not many of us who would feel that we could 
afford to stick up our noses at that amount of 
money. I know 7 couldn’t.” 

It was a decided relief to Molly that, at that 
moment, the maid announced Tom’s arrival, 
for the atmosphere was becoming somewhat 
strained. So she hurriedly made her adieux 
and ran out to the waiting car. 

“What do you think of your shining chariot?” 
asked Tom as she settled herself in the seat 
beside him. 


WHERE IS NATALIEt 


249 


“It's marvellous!” she cried enthusiastically. 
“I wouldn’t have believed it could ever look like 
this. I should think you and Rod would be all 
in.” 

“Not a bit of it,” laughed Tom. “We were 
pretty hot by the time we had finished, but we 
each took a shower, and if he feels as fit as I do, 
he could start in and do it all over again.” And, 
indeed, his looks bore out his statement, as he 
sat, erect and smiling in his immaculate white 
flannels. 

“You do look spiffy, dear,” said Molly, giving 
his arm a squeeze. “Now, tell me, have you had 
any word from New York?” 

Tom drew a telegram out of his pocket and 
handed it to her. “This came about an hour 
ago, just before I left,” he said. “I started early, 
as I had an errand in town.” 

Molly read the message with a quickly beat¬ 
ing heart. 

“Will arrive Armitage Saturday 2:38 p.m. 


“Gloria Gray.” 


250 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


“Oh,” she exclaimed a trifle breathlessly, 
“that must be her mother! I wonder what she’s 
like” 

“If we can judge by Natalie, she must be very 
much all right,” was Tom’s reply. 

Molly made no answer; she fell silent for so 
long a time that Tom was at a loss to account for 
it. Then, to his amazement, she burst out 
vehemently, “How I do loathe people who put 
money value above everything else!” 

Tom was amused at such an outburst from his 
usually gentle Molly, but he concealed his feel¬ 
ings, and merely asked, “Who’s the offender?” 

“Oh, everybody!” she flashed back at him, 
“everybody at the party. They couldn’t think 
of anything except the reward,—how much it 
would mean to us,—what we could buy with the 
money. Why, I actually believe they think 
we’re sort of queer not to accept it.” 

“Rod has an idea that the size of the reward 
might tempt dishonest people; that we ought 
to be on our guard,” said Tom. “He says he 
had a talk with Hank Allen, and Hank was nearly 


WHERE IS NATALIEf 


251 


bowled over when he heard that we weren’t going 
to claim it. In a larger place, there might be 
cause for alarm, I admit; but here, where we 
know everybody,—why, its absurd.” 

“You mean that some one might steal Natalie 
so as to claim the reward?” cried Molly in alarm. 

“Why, honey, don’t take it so to heart,” replied 
Tom, surprised at her distress. “I’m sure there’s 
nothing to worry about.” 

But his words fell on deaf ears. “If anything 
like that should happen. I never could forgive 
myself,” said Molly, with white lips. 

As they turned in at the drive a moment later, 
their hearts sank, for no welcoming figures came 
in sight, and the unaccustomed silence seemed 
portentous. 

“I feel in my bones that something dreadful 
has happened,” said Molly under her breath. 

“Oh, those prognosticating bones!” jibed Tom 
in an effort to allay her fears. But the smile 
faded from his face and he stiffened in his seat 
as a long-drawn, quavering wail came to their 
ears from the innermost regions of the house. 


252 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


Molly clutched Tom’s arm with both hands. 
“That’s Gussie!” she cried, springing from the 
car almost before it had stopped, and starting on 
a run for the house. Tom followed swiftly, but 
he could not keep pace with her flying feet. 

When she reached the kitchen door, Molly 
stopped short, for to her bewildered vision, the 
room seemed a blur of dusky forms and faces. 
But gradually these resolved themselves into 
definite shapes, and she saw before her only 
Gussie, Maudie May, and the latter’s mother, 
Nettie, the long-suffering wife of Gussie’s son, 
George. 

Gussie sat at the table, her head buried in her 
arms, her body shaken with grief; while Maudie 
May stroked her heaving shoulders in a vain 
attempt to comfort her. 

“Don’ cry, Gran’mammy,” she was saying as 
Molly entered. “It ain’t noways you fault,—is it, 
Mom?” She rolled imploring eyes at her 
mother who, silent and motionless as a graven 
image, occupied a chair on the far side of the 


room. 


WHERE IS NATALIE? 


253 


Thus appealed to, Nettie made answer in a 
dead, unemotional voice, “No, it ain’t her fault.” 
And added as an afterthought, “It ain’t nobody’s 
fault but his’n.” 

“What’s happened, Gussie?” cried Molly 
advancing into the room. 

Gussie’s reply was too wildly agitated to be 
intelligible; and Molly was relieved to hear 
Tom’s cheerful, quieting voice at her elbow, say¬ 
ing, “Come now, Gussie, pull yourself together 
and let’s hear all about it.” 

At the sound of his voice, Gussie ceased her 
lamentations and sat up, wiping her eyes. 

“I ’clare to goodness, Mr. Tom,” she said 
solemnly, “I ain’t had de leastes’ notion dis 
thing gwine happen, else I been on de lookout.” 

Tom knew from long experience that Gussie 
would have to tell the story in her own way, so 
he said as patiently as he could, “What thing, 
Gussie?” 

“Why, all dis business ’bout de reward,” 
answered Gussie. “You see, I didn’t know 
nothin’ ’bout it. Nobody done tell me dere was 


254 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


no such thing. Den long ’bout ha’-past fouah, 
mah son, Gawge come in, an’ he say to me, ‘I 
needs money putty bad,’ an’ I say to him, ‘What 
you come to me foh? I ain’t got no money. 
Go git a job ef you needs money.’ Den he say, 
‘ You has got money. You has got as good as five 
thousand dollahs right unner dis yere roof.’ I 
say, ‘What you mean, Gawge, is you gone plum’ 
crazy?’ An’ he say, ‘Dere’s a big reward for dat 
li’l gal what you got here. You let me have de 
li’l gal an’ I give you half de money.’ I say, 
‘Wheah-all you heah dem pack o’ lies?’ An’ 
he say, ‘It ain’t no lies. It’s de truf, ’cause it 
come ovah de radium down to Mike MacDowell’s 
pool room.’ Den I say, ‘You git outen mah 
kitchen, you wuthless, lazy, good-foh-nothin’ 
niggah!’” As she reached this part of her 
recital, Gussie rose dramatically. “Den he say, 
‘Aw right, I gits her foh myse’f, den,’ an’ he hurry 
fast out froo de do’. An’ I goes up to waken de 
chilluns an’ to see dat dey stays into de house 
till you gits back. But when I gits up to de bed¬ 
room,—Lawsy! lawsy!—dey is gone!” She 


WHERE IS NATALIEf 255 

covered her face with her apron and began to 
moan. 

To each of Gussie’s statements, Nettie and 
Maudie May nodded solemn confirmation; and 
presently Gussie recovered enough to resume her 
narrative. 

“Den,” she said, “I run quick an’ call Mr. Rod¬ 
ney. He just shavin’ himse’f in de baffroom, 
an’ soon as he heah me, out he come runnin’ 
wid his face all soapsuds, but he don’ wait foh 
nothin’ when I tell him what happen. He jus’ 
frow down his razor an’ grab a towel an’ wipe de 
soap offen his face, an’ den he go out froo dat do’ 
like he had wings onto his feet. Dat was mos’ 
an hour ago, an’—an’ I ain’ seed hide nor hair o’ 
any one o’ ’em sence.” 

“Suppose we go down to the orchard,” sug¬ 
gested Tom. “They might have gone there. 
And don’t look so frightened, honey. Remember, 
Rodney’s on the job.” 

“Yes,” said Molly dully, “but he’s been gone 
an hour, according to Gussie. What could be 
keeping him if—if everything is all right?” 


256 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


“He may be just playing with them,” answered 
Tom with a hopefulness he was very far from 
feeling. 

Together they sped down the sloping lawn 
towards the entrance to the apple orchard which, 
fronting on the Turnpike, was reached by a gate¬ 
way cut in the hedge. As they drew near this, 
the murmur of voices reached their ears. 

“They’re there!” cried Molly joyfully. “Oh, 
but what a fright! I’m fairly weak! ” And the 
laugh which accompanied her words was some¬ 
what hysterical. 

“Come here, you rascals! ” called Tom. “Come 
and give an account of yourselves. You’ve put 
us all in a pretty panic. You’ve—” He 
stopped; for as the children filed slowly through 
the gateway, he saw that there were only four. 

“Where’s Natalie?” called Molly sharply. 

For a moment no one spoke. There was an 
air of conscious guilt about the sturdy little 
figures confronting them. Then Phyllis an¬ 
swered bluntly, “Gone.” 

“Gone where?” asked Molly in bewilderment. 


WHERE IS NATALIEf 


257 


“Oh—just gone” said Sally with a furtive, 
sidelong glance. 

Then Bobby threw out his hands in a gesture 
of finality. “Gone,” he echoed in sepulchral 
tones, “Gone—gone—gone!” 




CHAPTER XVI 


AMOS INTERVENES 

It was a subdued and thoroughly dejected 
family that gathered in the living-room that 
evening; and for the first time in many months, 
the customary “sing” was omitted. But none 
of them—not even Bobby, whose spirits ordina¬ 
rily rebounded from all depressing influences 
with the lightness of a brand-new rubber ball, 
had the heart for it that night. It w T as a relief 
to all concerned when bedtime came, and the 
children departed without their usual protests 
for “just a few minutes more.” 

Molly accompanied them as usual; but to¬ 
night the evening ritual was brief, and when she 
came downstairs she looked wan and tired and 
altogether hopeless. 

“Well, what luck did you have?” asked Tom, 
laying down his paper. 


258 


AMOS INTERVENES 


259 


“None whatever/’ she replied as she threw 
herself upon the sofa with a discouraged sigh. 
“I can’t make any more impression upon them 
than on so many rocks. They won't tell where 
Natalie is; and I can’t make them understand 
how dreadful it will be for her mother when she 
comes to-morrow and finds her gone. It’s pure 
selfishness on their part. I don’t know what 
we’re going to do.” 

Tom took out his pipe and began to fill it 
absent-mindedly. “Hilda’s eyes are the most 
pathetic things I ever saw,” he said as he struck 
a match and held it to the bowl. “They fairly 
haunt me.” 

“Yes, poor dear. She’s dying to tell me every¬ 
thing,” said Molly sadly. “To-night she put 
her arms around my neck and whispered to me 
not to worry, that everything would be all right.” 

“Don’t you think if you used a little moral 
suasion on Bobby you could get some infor¬ 
mation?” asked Tom. 

Molly sat up briskly. “Oh, I couldn’t do 
that! ” she cried. “It would be taking an unfair 


260 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


advantage to attack them in their weakest 
quarter. No, I don’t want any information that 
has to be dragged out of them by force or 
strategy. It must come of their own free will, 
not by any act of mine.” 

“Well, at least we know that she hasn’t been 
stolen,” said Tom. 

“Yes,” agreed Molly, “and that, in itself, is 
something of a consolation. She must be some¬ 
where close at hand, though where, I cannot 
imagine. And that’s what frightens me so, the 
thought that we are powerless to protect her. 
George may discover where she is and get her, 
after all.” 

Rodney interrupted with a laugh. “I don’t 
think you need be afraid that George will give 
any further trouble,” he said. “When I caught 
him this afternoon skulking about in the under¬ 
brush down near the brook where the children 
play, I took pains to throw such a scare into him 
that he’s going to watch his step for many days 
to come. I left him blubbering like a baby, 
and fairly pale about the gills.” 


AMOS INTERVENES 261 

“But there are others who might have the same 
wicked plans/’ said Molly. 

“Yes/’ Tom assented, “but I have great con¬ 
fidence in Phyllis’s judgment. She has a good 
head on her shoulders, and you may be sure that, 
loving Natalie as she does, she would never let 
her stay where there was a chance of her coming 
to any harm.” 

“But she is so young to judge of that,” replied 
Molly, “and so innocent of what dangers there 
may be.” 

“I’m not worrying so much about Natalie, for 
I feel sure that she is safe,” remarked Tom, “but 
how are we going to explain matters to her 
mother to-morrow?” 

“Yes, that’s what I’ve been asking myself all 
along,” responded Molly, wretchedly. 

“Let’s hope they may be more ready to ’fess up 
in the morning,” said Tom cheerfully. “A good 
night’s rest may have a softening influence.” 

He turned again to his paper, while Molly 
listlessly picked up a bit of sewing, and Rodney, 
seating himself at the piano, began softly to im- 


262 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


provise. The simple melody was as soothing 
as a mother’s lullaby. Molly let her head sink 
back against the chair cushions and closed her 
tired eyes. How well Rodney understood what 
it was she needed! 

Suddenly there came an excited exclamation 
from Tom. “Listen to this! ” he cried, springing 
to his feet. And as the music ceased, he read 
aloud with dramatic emphasis, “Ainslee Car- 
ruthers announced to-day that he has selected a 
play by an unknown author as a vehicle in which 
to star Susanne Fitch during the coming season.” 

“Oh, Rod, it’s yours! ” cried Molly rapturously. 

“It sounds encouraging,” was Rodney’s com¬ 
ment. “But—pshaw! he may have a dozen 
plays by unknown authors. I’m not going to 
pin any hopes on that until I hear from Car- 
ruthers, himself. Though, naturally, I can’t 
help hoping—” 

His remarks were cut short by the metallic 
jangle of the telephone. Molly crossed the 
room to the small stand where the instrument 
stood. 


AMOS INTERVENES 263 

“Hello,” she said, a trifle absently, for her 
thoughts were all with Rodney. 

“Hello,” it was a husky voice which answered 
her, “Is this Mis’ Brewster?” 

“Yes,” answered Molly. “This is Mrs. Brew¬ 
ster speaking.” 

“Well, this is Amos Runkle.” 

“Good evening, Amos. How are you?” asked 
Molly in surprise. 

“I’m well, thank’ee, ma’am,” he answered; 
then in a cautious voice, he asked, “Is the chil¬ 
dren anywheres about, ma’am?” 

“No, Amos. They’re all in bed and asleep 
this long time,” answered Molly, “Is there any 
message I can give them in the morning?” 

“No, thank’ee, ma’am. I jest wanted to make 
sure they wasn’t round so’s to hear what I’m 
a-goin’ to say. ’Cause I wanted you to know,” 
—he paused to clear his throat—“little sissy’s 
here.” 

“Oh, Amos, where did you find her?” Molly’s 
eyes were dancing as she turned to smile at Tom. 
“Natalie!” she breathed. 


264 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


Amos coughed apologetically. “Well, you 
see, I didn’t jest exactly find her, ma’am,” he 
said. “When I druv back from town this atter- 
noon, the children was a-watching fer me in the 
road. I alius drive in for the paper, long about 
four o’clock, an’ they figured I’d be cornin’ back 
about five. So there they was, all drawed up in 
a line a-waitin’. Minute I seed ’em, I knowed 
there was somethin’ amiss. An’ when they told 
me ’bout little sissy, how her mother was cornin’ 
to take her away, an’ how bad they felt at losin’ 
her, an’ asts me would I please keep her for a 
few days till her mother went back home again, 
I—well, I know I hadn’t orto, but I hadn’t the 
heart to refuse ’em. But jest the same, I 
thought it wasn’t right that you should worry, 
ma’am.” 

“Oh, Amos, thank you!” cried Molly grate¬ 
fully. “I can’t tell you what a load is lifted from 
my heart.” 

Amos chuckled; then his husky old voice con¬ 
tinued, “An’ if ye don’t mind, Mis’ Brewster, I’d 
count it a real favor if you wouldn’t let on to the 


AMOS INTERVENES 265 

children that I tattled. I wouldn’t have ’em 
think I wasn’t square.” 

“No, Amos, I won’t tell,” promised Molly. 

Amos expressed his gratitude; then he added, 
“Sabina, my old woman, is clean daffy about her. 
They’re settin’ on the floor together, now, a-cut- 
tin’ out paper dolls.” He stopped abruptly and 
rang off. 

Molly turned from the telephone with a ra¬ 
diant face. “No wonder they assured me she was 
safe. She’s with Amos and Sabina,” she an¬ 
nounced happily. 

“What a relief! ” cried Rodney in such a heart¬ 
felt tone that both Tom and Molly realized for 
the first time how worried he had been. 

“I told you Phyllis had a good head,” said Tom 
as he rose and stretched himself. “Now, I sup¬ 
pose I’d better get out the old Packarderm and 
run over and get the young lady.” 

“No, Tom, you mustn’t!” Molly’s tone was 
so sharply imperative that Tom looked at her 
in surprise. 

“Why not?” he asked defensively. 


266 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


“Well, for one thing, I just this minute prom¬ 
ised Amos that we wouldn’t let the children know 
he’d told.” 

“That’s easily managed. Amos is going to 
sell me a couple of pigeons. I can drive over 
after them this evening and, incidentally, dis¬ 
cover Natalie. They need never know.” 

Molly walked over to one of the windows and 
stood looking out into the night. From the 
pathetic droop of her shoulders, Tom knew that 
there was something wrong. He went and stood 
beside her, slipping an arm about her waist. “I 
won’t go if you’d rather I wouldn’t, honey,” he 
said, “but I thought you’d want her back.” 

She leaned her head against him wearily. 
“Oh, I do! I do!” she exclaimed, “but not that 
way, dear. Don’t you see that if you go and get 
her, that will spoil everything? It would be 
'putting one over on them,’ as they say. Some¬ 
how, they must be made to see and undo the 
wrong they have done. But how can I make 
them see it? How can I?” She wrung her 
hands together in despair, and continued in a 


AMOS INTERVENES 


267 


low voice, almost as if thinking aloud, “I won¬ 
der if my theories are all wrong; if I have trusted 
too much to their sense of what was right. I 
wonder of Mrs. Smith’s way is better, after all.” 

Tom listened without interrupting. He 
knew that she must fight this out alone. 

“I have always tried to play fair with them,” 
continued Molly, “to show them what was right 
and then leave them to make their own deci¬ 
sions. But they’ve never been like this before, 
—so hard, so stubborn, so unyielding. They’re 
not perfect, of course. They’re cross, some¬ 
times, and thoughtless and careless and aggra¬ 
vating and everything else that healthy, normal 
children are; but down at heart, they’ve always 
been all right. I’ve believed in them, believed 
that when it came to an issue, they would always 
do the square and decent thing; and they’ve 
never failed me, until now.” Her voice broke. 

Tom drew her close and held her there until 
she had grown calmer. 

“They will not fail you now, dear heart,” he 
whispered with his lips against her hair. 


CHAPTER XVII 

RODNEY MAKES A DISCOVERY 

The doleful strains of “The Storm of Life” 
wakened the Brewsters early next morning. 

“O my goodness!” groaned Molly to her re¬ 
flection in the mirror of her dressing-table as 
she twisted up her hair, “aren’t things gloomy 
enough without having to listen to thatf I 
must hurry and find out what’s the trouble.” 

So, after a depressingly silent breakfast, she 
went to the kitchen where Gussie, her face fur¬ 
rowed with care, was filling the air with sounds 
of woe, as she wailed: 

“Lord, if I put my trust in Thee, will you hide Thou me ? 
“Lord, if I put my trust in Thee, will you hide Thou me?” 

Molly walked over to the sink where the 
breakfast dishes were draining and, picking up a 
towel, began to dry the plates. She did not say 


268 


A DISCOVERY 


269 


a word, knowing full well that Gussie would not 
unburden her soul until she felt the urge to do 
so. Meanwhile, for several stanzas the song con¬ 
tinued unbroken. Then, Gussie, as though but 
just aware of Molly’s presence, snatched the 
towel from her hands, exclaiming, “Foh lawsy 
sakes, Mis’ Molly, don’t you wipe dem dishes! 
I ’clare to goodness, I’s so flabjurated dis maw- 
nin’ I don’ scacely know whar I is at!” 

“What’s wrong, Gussie?” asked Molly with 
ready sympathy. 

“Trouble, trouble, trouble!” was Gussie’s 
dolorous reply. “ ’Pears lak’ dere ain’t no end 
to it. Seems, sometimes, dat trouble’s jes’ lak’ 
fleas onto a dawg,—jumps outa nowhere right 
onto you back an’ gives you a nip. De mo’ you 
tries to git away, de mo’ dey bites.” She shook 
her head sadly. 

Molly waited with patience for her to proceed. 

“It’s mah son, Gawge,” Gussie announced 
mournfully, “he been ’rested.” 

“Arrested? Why, what for? What has he 
done?” gasped Molly. 


270 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


“Ain’t done nothin’, Mis’ Molly,” said Gussie 
solemnly. “Dey come foh him las’ night an’ 
’rested him, ’cause dey say he knowed som’p’n 
’bout de robbery ovah to Curtiss Plains las’ 
Wednesday. You ’member dey held up de drug 
store an’ took ’bout fifty dollahs outen de cash 
registah.” 

“Oh, yes,” replied Molly, “I remember hear¬ 
ing about that. When did you say it hap¬ 
pened?” 

“Las’ Wednesday, ’bout two o’clock in de atter- 
noon.” 

Molly thought hard for a moment; then she 
said, “Why, that was the day before my party. 
George was here all day, mowing the lawn and 
clipping the hedge. He couldn’t have been con¬ 
cerned in it!” 

Gussie nodded gravely. “Yassum, I ’mem¬ 
bers dat, too. But when Gawge tell dat to de 
officer, it don’ do no good. He take ’im an’ put 
’im in de lock-up, an’ Nettie, she tell me dat 
Gawge is jes’ posturated wid shame about it.— 
Oh, mah boy, mah po’ boy! ” Gussie covered her 


A DISCOVERY 


271 


face with her wrinkled hands and began to weep. 

Molly patted the bent shoulders. “But he 
didn’t do it, Gussie,” she said soothingly. “We 
all know that and can testify, if necessary. I’ll 
tell Tom, and I know he’ll go right over to Cur¬ 
tiss Plains and explain matters to the author¬ 
ities.” 

Gussie wiped her eyes. “Oh, Mis’ Molly, I 
be so happy if Mr. Tom would do dat foh me,” 
she cried gratefully; and she resumed her work 
with a brighter face. And presently she re¬ 
marked with a virtuous gleam in her eye. “I 
reckon dis ’sperience gwine to larn Gawge a 
lesson. I ’specs he been so scared dat now he 
turn ovah a new leaf an’ git religion.” 

Molly smiled dubiously. She did not share 
Gussie’s belief in George’s reformation. “One 
night in jail won’t hurt him,” she said to herself, 
remembering all the trouble he had caused them; 
and her sympathies were less with the delin¬ 
quent George than with his sorrowing old 
mother. 

And so it came about that instead of going to 


272 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


Armitage to meet the 2:38 as he had planned, 
Tom donned his knickers and walked the three 
miles to Curtiss Plains to see what he could do in 
* the matter of effecting George’s release; so the 
task of meeting Natalie’s mother, fell to Rodney. 

As he drove through the placid, elm-arched 
streets of Armitage, Rodney had to admit to 
himself that the errand was not to his liking. 
He experienced none of Molly’s curiosity in re¬ 
gard to the woman’s personality. In fact, when 
he came to analyze his feelings, he found that 
the only emotion of which he was conscious, 
was one of decided antagonism; almost as if he 
resented her claiming her own child. “I’m as 
bad as the kids, in that respect,” he soliloquized, 
as he drew up at the station platform and saw 
with satisfaction that the train was already in 
sight. 

He parked his car in the rear of the building, 
and strolled around to the front just as the train 
pulled in. “Lucky thing Armitage isn’t a thriv¬ 
ing metropolis,” he mused as the passengers 
began to straggle out, “I might have difficulty 


A DISCOVERY 


273 


in identifying the lady.” Then, in an instant, 
all thoughts of Natalie’s mother were put to 
flight by the vision of a slender, black-robed fig¬ 
ure that he knew. Scarcely able to believe his 
eyes, Rodney moved towards her as if in a dream, 
while the girl, for she looked hardly more than 
that, after a moment of amazed scrutiny, ran to 
him with both hands outstretched. “Oh, Mr. 
Harrington,” she cried, “will you help me?—I 
am looking for a family named Brewster.” 

“Why—why—that’s me!” stammered Rod¬ 
ney, growing ungrammatical in his surprise. 
“At least, I’m part of it, that is to say, I represent 
it. I’m its brother-in-law.” 

Gloria Gray’s long-fringed blue eyes opened 
wide. “Then—then you have my little girl!” 
she gasped. 

“Your little girl?” echoed Rodney. 

“Yes, Natalie.” 

Then, suddenly, they both laughed. “This 
certainly calls for explanations on both sides,” 
remarked Gloria as he guided her towards the 
car. “But tell me about her. Is she well? 


274 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


Has she missed me? Does she know I’m com¬ 
ing?” Her questions fairly tumbled over each 
other in her eagerness. 

“She couldn’t be finer,” Rodney answered as 
they climbed aboard. 

He drove home slowly; they had much to talk 
about. 

“You must be thinking very strange things of 
me,” said Gloria when they had started, “so I 
may as well begin at the beginning and then 
everything will be clear. Eight years ago, when 
I first went on the stage, I took my mother’s 
maiden name; so that’s why the public knows 
me as Susanne Fitch. Two years later, I mar¬ 
ried Hamilton Gray. You’ve heard of him, no 
doubt.” 

“Who hasn’t?” answered Rodney, “with the 
reputation he has made in polo.” 

“Yes, everybody knew him,” Gloria replied 
half-sadly, “if not for his game, then for his 
millions. They called him the Million-Dollar 
Kid, you know.” 

Rodney nodded. 


A DISCOVERY 


275 


“He was injured, fatally, in the last inter¬ 
national match in England, late in June,” 
said Gloria. 

“I read of it in the Paris papers,” remarked 
Rodney quietly. 

“Our marriage was not happy,” she continued 
after a short pause, “we were just two crazy 
kids who didn’t know our own minds. We were 
never suited to each other. After the second 
year we rarely saw each other. And yet, for all 
of that, when the end came, he wanted me. I 
reached him just before he died.” 

Rodney, stealing a glance at her, saw that her 
cheeks were wet. “Please don’t think you have 
to tell me this,” he said. 

“Oh, but I want to,” she replied earnestly. “I 
want you to know. It’s—it’s only that I’ve 
been through so much these last few weeks that 
I find it hard to talk. You see, the cable came 
just the closing week of my engagement. My 
understudy took my part and Uncle Ainslee 
arranged to go with me. He has been so wonder¬ 
ful through all this trouble,—I don’t know what 


276 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


I should have done without him.—I couldn’t 
take Natalie very well; so I left her behind in 
Dulcie’s care. Dulcie had been my maid for 
three years, quiet, middle-aged, respectable and, 
apparently, perfectly trustworthy. So I didn’t 
worry about leaving Natalie in her charge. 
Imagine my feelings, then, when I returned 
three weeks later and found them both gone, 
and nobody could tell me where! The door¬ 
man at the Apartment said the last he saw of 
them they were getting into a taxi at the cor¬ 
ner. From then on, there wasn’t a trace of them. 
It was as if they had vanished into thin air. Of 
course, I was nearly frantic; but I remembered 
that Dulcie had a sister in the Bronx, and I 
thought they might be there. So I looked her 
up, and then discovered that she was in trouble, 
too. A letter had just come from Dulcie, and 
she was in Montreal. Her sister let me read 
the letter, and I shall never forget it. I think 
the woman’s crazy.” 

“It’s undoubtedly the most charitable thing 
to think,” interposed Rodney. 


A DISCOVERY 


277 


“In her letter, Dulcie said that for several 
years she had been giving her wages to a man 
named Alec to whom she was engaged,” con¬ 
tinued Gloria. “When I was called away, he 
saw his chance to persuade her to go away with 
him. He had bought a car with some of her 
money, and he knew she had a tidy little bank 
account up in Albany, where she had lived be¬ 
fore she came to me. He evidently wanted to 
hang on to her until he could get his hands on 
that. So he told the poor, foolish old thing to 
go to Albany and draw out her money, and he 
would meet her there with the car, and they 
would go on a sort of glorified honeymoon to 
Canada. Well, she followed his instructions 
in all but one respect, she took Natalie along. 
This spoiled everything, for he saw the chance 
of a kidnaping charge looming up ahead of him; 
so he told Dulcie that it was ‘all off’ unless 
she got rid of ‘the brat’. And Dulcie, not 
knowing what else to do under the circumstances, 
simply set her down on a lonely country road 
and left her there.” 


278 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


“It's the most outrageous thing I ever heard 
of,” said Rodney feelingly; and Gloria, heartily 
agreeing, went on with her story. 

“They went to Montreal, and there he aban¬ 
doned her as, of course, any one might know he 
would. Then he lit out with the car; and she, 
frightened and penniless, wrote the whole story 
to her sister.” 

“And it was only Thursday that you read this 
letter,” commented Rodney. “You have done 
some pretty speedy work.” 

“Yes. Uncle Ainslee said the way to get the 
quickest action was to have a description of her 
broadcast, so we put the matter into the hands 
of the Missing Persons Bureau. It seemed like 
an answer to prayer when Mr. Brewster’s tele¬ 
gram came so promptly, and it was such a reas¬ 
suring one. It said she was safe and happy and 
with people who loved her. He can never know 
how much that message meant to me.” Her 
eyes filled as she spoke. 

“We’ve all lost our hearts to Natalie,” declared 
Rodney, “so much so, in fact, that I am placed 


A DISCOVERY 279 

in the embarrassing position of having to con¬ 
fess that she isn’t with us any more.” 

“What!” Terror leaped into the blue eyes, 
so like, so very like, Natalie’s own. “Don’t tell 
me you have let somebody else have her!” 

“No,” said Rodney gently. “It’s only that 
she’s staying temporarily with a nice old couple 
that we know and, if you say so, I’ll drive you 
there at once. But when I’ve explained mat¬ 
ters, I’m hoping you will understand our point 
of view, and be kind enough to humor us in our 
treatment of the affair.” 

“It would be poor gratitude that couldn’t 
promise that,” was Gloria’s reply. 

“My sister has four children,” Rodney began, 
“as good, healthy-minded, normal kids as you’d 
find anywhere. They have been brought up 
carefully; but my sister has very decided ideas 
about training children; she has never forced 
them to do things as so many mothers do. She 
has told them what was right and then just 
put it up to them to do the square thing. And 
it’s worked well. They are good kids.” He said 


280 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


the last defensively, more as if he were answer¬ 
ing an argument, rather than merely stating a 
fact. 

“Fm sure of it,” replied Gloria Gray. 

“Well, they all fell hard for Natalie the min¬ 
ute they laid eyes on her,” he continued, “You 
see,—my own little girl—” —he hesitated, find¬ 
ing it difficult to speak of things so near his 
heart—“my little Jean—died not very long 
ago.” 

“Oh, you are married, then?” 

“My wife is dead,” replied Rodney, simply. 

Gloria laid her hand upon his arm in a quick, 
unconscious gesture of sympathy. “Forgive 
me,” she said softly. 

Rodney stared straight ahead and went on 
speaking, but his voice had grown husky, “Nat¬ 
alie is very like my little Jean. We all noticed 
it. And when she came to us, she seemed to fill 
Jean’s place in the children’s hearts. They 
adopted her instantly, and absolutely 

Gloria was deeply moved. “It seems almost 
as if she had been guided to your door,” she said. 


A DISCOVERY 


281 


“Well,” Rodney took up his story again, “when 
the children heard that some one was coming to 
take Natalie away, they simply wouldn’t stand 
for it. They took matters into their own hands 
and hid her with this old couple. We were all 
frantic until we found out where she was, but 
we probably shouldn’t have known to this day 
if old Amos hadn’t volunteered the information. 
And it’s just here that the complication arises, 
for, you see, we’re not supposed to know where 
she is. My sister has argued, coaxed and 
pleaded; the children will not tell, and so—you 


Gloria interrupted him. “To think they love 
my Natalie like that! ” she cried with an odd lit¬ 
tle quaver in her voice while her eyes grew very 
large and bright. Then to Rodney’s utter be¬ 
wilderment, she threw back her head and 
laughed. Her dimples were enchanting. “The 
darling rogues! ” she cried, “of course, we mustn’t 
let them know we’ve found her. They must be 
the ones to tell. The problem is how to make 
them.” 



II 


282 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


Rodney was plainly relieved at her under¬ 
standing of the situation. “They’re selfish lit¬ 
tle beasts,” he declared. “They don’t give a 
thought as to how you might feel about it.” 

Gloria smiled mysteriously. “I’ll make them 
understand,” she said after a thoughtful silence. 
“Just leave them to me. I have a plan. And 
now, Mr. Harrington, tell me what they’re like.” 

“Well,” said Rodney, “Hilda, the eldest, is 
eleven, and she’s all heart, the dearest little soul 
that ever lived; soft and yielding, a good deal of 
a dreamer, the exact opposite of Phyllis who is 
nine and, undoubtedly, the ringleader in this, as 
she is in everything. She is a capable child with 
a keen mind, somewhat stubborn (they all are 
that) but generous and affectionate. Sally 
comes next; she has just turned seven. She 
loves the good things of this world a bit too well, 
I fear; is rather inclined to be selfish, but is 
loyal and truthful to the last degree. Bobby, 
who is only three, is too young to have developed 
any very decided characteristics, aside from a 
bulldog tenacity of purpose. He just tags along 


A DISCOVERY 


283 


after the others and does as they do. But what¬ 
ever their faults and failings may be, you can 
bank on this, they all adore their mother.” 

Gloria turned to him, and mischief was danc¬ 
ing in her eyes. “Is there any way that I could 
see them before I meet their mother?” she asked. 
“Let me go to them alone. I think that would 
be best.” And under her breath, Rodney heard 
her say again, “The darlings!” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


Natalie’s mother 

Rodney did not turn in between the gray 
stone pillars which marked the entrance to the 
Brewster place, but drove on past them and 
into the apple orchard where he parked the car; 
and, together, the two conspirators stole through 
the hedge and up the lawn to the side of the 
house where the playroom wing was located. 

“They’re pretty sure to be in there,” said Rod¬ 
ney, pointing to it. 

Gloria stepped forward to the door through 
which came the sound of children’s voices. She 
paused there for a moment, looking in; then 
tapped, and vanished from his sight. Then 
Rodney, without the slightest scruple in regard 
to eavesdropping, stationed himself close to one 
of the windows, in the shadow of a tall syringa 


284 


NATALIE’S MOTHER 


285 


bush, where he could see and hear everything 
that went on inside. 

It had been a hard day for the children. Be¬ 
ing very much depressed by a sense of their 
guilt, they had found it well-nigh impossible to 
take more than a passing interest in things. 
Fits of gloom had alternated with unsuccessful 
attempts to play; and after what seemed to them 
an interminable morning, they had gathered in 
the playroom where they now sat, dejected and 
unhappy, about a table at one side of the long 
room. 

“I wish ’twas all over an’ we could have Nat¬ 
alie back,” pouted Sally. “We haven’t had a 
bit of fun all day.” 

“Fun!” exploded Phyllis. “It’s been awful. 
This day has seemed as long as a week, an’ it isn’t 
over yet.” 

“No, the hardest part is coming,” was Sally’s 
cheerful reply. 

“The hardest part is having Mother feel so 
bad,” said Hilda. 

“0 my goodness!” exclaimed Phyllis crossly, 


286 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


“can’t anybody say anything cheerful or pleas¬ 
ant? I didn’t know it would be like this. I’m 
sick of the whole business!” 

“So’m I,” said Sally with a deep sigh, “but 
Mrs. Gray’ll be here soon. Hasn’t Uncle Roddy 
gone for her?” 

“Yes,” answered Phyllis. “I saw him drive 
away, but the car hasn’t come back yet. We’ll 
be sure to hear it when it does.” 

“What you going to say to her when she does 
come, Phyll?” asked Hilda. 

Phyllis looked at her coldly. “You needn’t 
think for one minute that I’m going to do all 
the talking,” she replied. “You’re in this just 
as much as I am.” 

“But you always think of such good things to 
say,” said Hilda flatteringly. “I always get 
so panicky.” 

Phyllis began to kick at the leg of the table 
moodily; and Bobby who, hitherto, had taken 
no part in the discussion, now stepped boldly 
into the breach. “I’ll do the talkin’ when she 
comes,” he declared in a shrill, determined voice, 


NATALIE’S MOTHER 287 

‘Til jus’ say, ‘Git, now, git!’ like Gussie does to 
Gawge.” 

The small braggart looked about him for ap¬ 
plause, but none came; for at that moment, they 
all heard a light step outside, a tap upon the 
open door, and there, framed in the opening, 
stood a girlish figure dressed in black. 

The sunlight fell upon the soft tendrils of hair 
beneath the somber little hat, turning them to 
purest gold; it rested on the fresh young cheeks, 
the smiling lips. There was no mistaking the 
identity of this person; the eyes that looked 
at them were Natalie’s. With a low laugh, 
she stepped quickly into the room. “Ah, here 
you are!” she cried; then, as her searching eyes 
failed in their quest, she stopped as if surprised. 
“Natalie!” she called breathlessly, “Natalie, 
darling, where are you?” 

There was no answer. Rising slowly to their 
feet, the children gazed at her with an admira¬ 
tion they made no effort to conceal. Was this 
the woman whose coming they had feared? 
They had never dreamed that she might be so 


288 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


young, so beautiful, so altogether lovely; and 
at sight of her their unwarranted aversion began 
to slip away. 

Hilda was the first to find her tongue. With 
the instinct of a hostess, she pushed a chair 
forward, saying shyly, “Won’t you sit down?” 

Gloria did so wearily. “I—I thought my lit¬ 
tle girl was here,” she said with a pathetic catch 
in her voice, “but there must be some mistake. 
Can any of you children tell me where she is?” 

There was a dead silence. Phyllis moistened 
her lips nervously and tried to think of some¬ 
thing to say. The other children, embarrassed 
at her failure to reply, turned and gazed out of 
the window. Gloria looked from one face to 
another as if trying to read their thoughts; then 
she sprang to her feet with a despairing cry. 

“Something has happened to her!” she 
moaned, “I see it in your faces.” She began 
to pace about the room, wringing her hands and 
weeping. “Why didn’t some one tell me,” she 
sobbed, “instead of letting me find it out like 
this? Why did they send for me and tell me she 


NATALIE’S MOTHER 


289 


was here? Oh—it was cruel!—cruel!” Her 
voice sank almost to a whisper; she seemed to be 
talking to herself, unaware of the four troubled 
faces watching her. But suddenly she whirled 
upon them angrily. “Can none of you speak?” 
she cried, “Can none of you tell me what has 
happened?” 

Phyllis stepped forward, but she seemed to 
have lost her usual air of assurance. “Nothing 
has happened to her, Mrs. Gray,” she faltered, 
“only—she isn’t here—just now.” 

“What do you mean?” asked Gloria in a hard 
voice. “The telegram certainly said that she 
was here.” 

“She was here,” interposed Sally, coming 
bravely to Phyllis’s aid. 

“She’s gone away,” said Bobby, putting in 
his oar. With his feet planted very far apart, 
he stood in front of Gloria and looked her 
squarely in the eye, as he made this announce¬ 
ment. 

“Gone?” repeated Gloria. 

He nodded vigorously. 



290 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


“But I don’t understand,” she said with a 
puzzled look, “if nothing has happened to her, 
why all this mystery? Why don’t you tell me 
where she is so I can go and get her ? What right 
have you to keep me in suspense like this?” 
Then her voice rose to an hysterical pitch, and 
she exclaimed with a vehemence which startled 
them, “No—no—no,—you are keeping some¬ 
thing back. Something terrible has happened 
and you are afraid to tell me. But anything— 
anything is better than this uncertainty.” 

With a quick, graceful movement, she fell 
on her knees in front of them, holding out her 
arms in supplication. “Tell me where she is,” 
she begged, her voice tense with feeling, “I want 
her so,—my little love,—my baby.” Tears glis¬ 
tened on her cheeks. 

Hilda looked beseechingly at Phyllis. “Oh, 
Phylly,” she quavered, “Oh, Phylly!” But 
Phyllis turned her back in stubborn silence, and 
resisted the appeal. 

“I have travelled so far,” the pleading voice 
went on, “so far, in the hope of finding my dar- 


NATALIE’S MOTHER 291 

ling; and now—now—” Sobs seemed to choke 
her; she held a handkerchief to her eyes. 

Hilda could stand no more. “I guess Fd bet¬ 
ter get Mother/’ she said, hurrying from the 
room. 

“Well, that got Hilda,” said Rodney to him¬ 
self ; and as he became aware of a mist before his 
eyes, he added with amusement, “I guess it got 
me, too.” 

Gloria Gray rose slowly to her feet and dried 
her eyes. Then she sat down on a chair and 
drew Sally to her gently, running her hand ca¬ 
ressingly over her smooth, dark hair. “I won¬ 
der,” she said gravely, “if you know what it is 
to want a thing so much that it aches, right 
here.” She laid her hand above her heart. 

“Oh, yes,” replied Sally earnestly, “that’s the 
way we all want Rinty. We want him so aw¬ 
fully much it hurts.” 

“Well, that’s the way I want my little girl.” 

Sally regarded her soberly. “But we want 
Natalie, too,” she said. “We want her for our 
little sister.” 


292 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


“But you all have each other, and I have no 
one in all the world but her.” 

Bobby stepped closer and laid one hand upon 
her knee. “No one—not no one at all?” he 
queried anxiously. 

“No one at all,” said Gloria Gray. 

Sally dropped her eyes. It was plain to see 
she was giving the matter serious consideration. 

“Suppose you had been given a wonderful 
gift,” Gloria continued, “something that was 
priceless—” (Sally felt of the birthday ring upon 
her finger)—“and through no fault of yours— 
no conscious fault, that is—you lost it. How 
would you feel if some one found it and refused 
to give it back?” 

Sally flushed. “I’d be good an’ mad,” she 
said. 

“Yes,” agreed Bobby, “an’ I’d be mad, too, I 
would.” 

Gloria smiled at the little fellow’s earnestness. 

“We-e-ell, I’d just as lief tell where Natalie is,” 
Sally confessed with a shy glance, “only—only 
I wouldn’t go back on the others, not for any- 


NATALIE’S MOTHER 293 

% 

thing/’ And she raised her head with a deter¬ 
mined gesture. 

“Sally has surrendered/’ commented Rodney 
with a good deal of satisfaction. “It’s up to 
Phyllis now.” 

But at this psychological moment, Molly en¬ 
tered with tear-stained Hilda clinging to her 
arm. 

With outstretched hands she hurried toward 
her guest, her lips parted in a welcoming smile. 
But the smile faded, and she paused a bit un¬ 
certainly as she saw that Gloria was regarding 
her with cold, unfriendly eyes. 

“Ah,—Mrs. Brewster,” said Gloria rising to 
her feet, “there are a few things I would like 
to say to you.” 

Molly’s hands dropped to her sides; she was 
completely taken aback by the tone of the other 
woman’s voice. “Oh, I am so —so sorry,” she 
stammered wretchedly. 

“Sorry! ” blazed Gloria Gray, “Sorry! ” Then 
she threw back her head and laughed. It was 
not a pretty laugh to hear; it was cruel and 


294 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


altogether heartless. The children looked at 
her with frightened eyes, instinctively drawing 
closer to their mother. 

“You talk of being sorry/’ cried Gloria pas¬ 
sionately, “you, with your home and your hus¬ 
band and children; you, who with all of these 
would plot to keep my little one from me!” 
She spoke rapidly, as if fearful of interruption, 
her words fairly tumbling over each other. 

A look of wonder leaped into Molly’s eyes, a 
look of sudden understanding. She almost 
smiled; and Gloria continued tensely, “Don’t 
think I’m blind. I saw through your scheme 
as soon as I found she wasn’t here. And now 
you—you—” she pointed her finger accusingly 
at Molly. 

“Stop! Stop! Stop!” It was Phyllis’s 
voice, and with each repetition of the word, she 
stamped her foot. She stepped before her 
mother as if to shield her from the torrent of 
abuse, facing Gloria Gray with flashing eyes. 

“You shan’t blame Mother,” she cried hotly, 
“she had nothing whatever to do with it. She 


NATALIE’S MOTHER 295 

doesn’t even know where Natalie is. It’s us— 
just us!” And flinging both arms about Molly’s 
waist, she buried her face in the folds of her 
dress. 

“Mother,” she sobbed, “darling, darling 
Mother!” 

“The last barrier is down,” was Rodney’s men¬ 
tal comment as he left his post of vantage at the 
window, and strolled down to get the car. He 
knew full well that his presence in the playroom 
at such a moment would only be embarrassing. 

Bobby, meanwhile, had surveyed the scene 
with disapproval. He was at a loss to account 
for all these tears; for, to him, the case looked 
simple, and easy of adjustment. With an air 
of scorn, he turned to quit the room. 

“Oh, fiddle!” he remarked disgustedly, “Oh, 
fiddle! I guess I better twy to find Amos and tell 
him to bwing Natty back.” 


CHAPTER XIX 


all’s well that ends well 

When Tom returned from Curtiss Plains a 
short time later, in company with a subdued and 
chastened George, he found that a surprising 
change had taken place in the atmosphere of his 
home. The gloomy house from which he had 
departed that morning had vanished and, in 
its place, there stood a veritable palace of mirth. 
Sounds of excited chatter drew him to the side 
verandah, and as he rounded the corner of the 
house, loud shouts of welcome greeted him. 

Natalie, from her throne on her mother’s 
knee, spied him first. “Here comes my Daddy 
Brewster!” she announced loudly; and, at her 
words, there was a stampede of children in his 
direction. 

“Listen, Father, listen!” they shouted, each 
eager to be first to impart the interesting news. 


296 



She Laid her Hand upon the Golden Head. 

— Page 297 





ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 297 


As he came up the steps with the noisy flock 
clinging to him like so many little burs, Gloria 
rose and stood waiting for him with Natalie’s 
hand in hers. 

“I’m not going to try to say ‘thank you’,” she 
said, holding out her hand without waiting for 
Molly’s introduction, “but I want you to know 
that I’m feeling very rich to-day.” As she 
spoke, she laid her hand upon the golden head 
beside her. 

Tom took her hand in both of his. “And I’m 
afraid we are going to feel very poor after to¬ 
day,” he replied. Then, bending to kiss Natalie, 
he said, “Did you have a good time, honey-girl?” 

“Oh, yes,” responded Natalie, “Amos let me 
feed the pigs, an’ Sabina let me help her make 
a pie, an’ she made a teeny-weeny one for me an’ 
I had it for my breakfast. An’ I had a ride on 
Nellie’s back, an’—0 dear,—I did so many things 
I can’t ’member all of ’em. But some day I’m 
goin’ there an’ stay a whole week, ’cause Sabina 
—she ’most cried when Uncle Roddy came an’ 
got me.” 


298 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


Gloria’s eyes were troubled; she was beginning 
to realize what this experience had meant to 
Natalie. With a passionate gesture, she hugged 
the child close, laying her cheek against her 
sunny curls. 

“You wouldn’t go away and leave Mother 
again, would you, sweetheart?” she asked wist¬ 
fully. 

Natalie squirmed. It was plain to see the 
decision was a hard one. But she answered af¬ 
ter a moment, “You could come, too. I know 
Sabina would let you, ’cause she’s got a per- 
fe’ly ’normous bed. You have to climb into it 
with steps.” 

Then sliding down from her mother’s lap, she 
scampered away with the children to have a 
look at the puppies. This gave the older ones 
an opportunity to tell Tom all that had occurred 
during his absence. 

“Wasn’t it a clever way of handling the af¬ 
fair?” asked Molly when her account of it was 
finished. “Why, in the few minutes she was 
with them, she showed them the consequences of 


ALUS WELL THAT ENDS WELL 299 


their act more plainly than I had been able to 
with all my talking. She won them absolutely.” 

“I was sure they would capitulate,” said Tom. 

“But can you ever forgive me for the dreadful 
things I said to you?” asked Gloria, laying her 
hand on Molly’s knee. “I was so afraid you 
might not understand, and be offended, but I had 
to reach Phyllis, somehow, and every other way 
had failed.” 

Molly laughed and pressed Gloria’s hand re¬ 
assuringly. “You were wonderful, my dear,” 
she said, “though I’ll have to admit that just 
for a moment, it did give me something of a 
shock. But after the first surprise, I realized 
that you were only acting a part. And when I 
saw the results, I felt as if nothing else mat¬ 
tered. Why, Phyllis insisted on calling up 
Amos, herself, and telling him that Rodney 
would be right over to get Natalie.” 

“It’s the most wonderful thing in the world,” 
said Gloria speaking very earnestly, “that Nat¬ 
alie should have fallen into such a home as this. 
Why, she is like another child, so rosy and brown 


300 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


and full of life. It was her first real taste of hap¬ 
piness.” 

She fell silent for a little, then went on more 
slowly, “Poor darling! I’m afraid I’ve been a 
very selfish mother—I’ve given her so little of 
my time. I’ve never looked at life through her 
eyes, nor wondered what she was getting out 
of it. And yet, don’t think that I don’t love 
her. I adore her! I think it would have killed 
me if I hadn’t got her back. But, you know, 
I never realized how much she had been cheated 
of until I saw this” Her gesture was as wide as 
the horizon. “Now she has had this little 
glimpse of freedom, I really hate to take her back 
to that lonely, shut-in life.” 

Molly leaned forward eagerly, a question 
trembling on her lips. She was wondering, 
hoping, praying. 

“Must you?” she asked breathlessly. “Why 
couldn’t you let her stay with us this summer?” 

Gloria made no immediate reply. She sat 
looking out across the shady lawn and the quiet 
countryside, to the purple hills that ringed them 


ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 301 


round. And far beyond their peaceful, wooded 
slopes, she seemed to see the lights and turmoil 
of a great city. There were tall buildings there 
and streets like gray stone canyons, and throngs 
of people hurrying to and fro. And high up in 
one of the canyon walls, like a little captive 
princess in a fairy tale, a wistful child peered 
down, and longed for something it was beyond 
her power to give. Freedom—Companionship 
—when these two were in the scales, what could 
she throw into the other side to make the balance 
even? 

Gloria drew a long breath, and there were 
tears in her eyes as she spoke. “Why,” she said, 
“to take her back to the city now would be like 
putting a little wild bird into a cage and expect¬ 
ing it to be happy. If you could—if you would 
keep her for me for a few weeks—or maybe 
longer—I should be so relieved,—so very, very 
happy.” 

Molly’s eyes were like twin stars. “Oh, I can 
hardly wait to tell the children,” she cried, and 
her voice had the lilt of the lark. 


302 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


“You see/’ said Gloria after a brief silence, 
as she unaffectedly wiped her eyes, “Uncle Ains- 
lee is putting on a new play this fall and he has 
cast me for the leading part. I shall be so busy 
with rehearsals, and how can I ever trust serv¬ 
ants again? If it weren’t for disappointing 
Uncle, I’d throw the whole thing over and settle 
down to play the role of Mother. But this 
play—” she stopped and looked at Rodney 
questioningly, “why, isn’t it your play?” she 
asked, “it’s called ‘His Princess’.” 

“Why, yes, that’s mine,” grinned Rodney try¬ 
ing to muster up an off-hand manner. 

“How will you like me as ‘Yvette’?” she chal¬ 
lenged, gaily. “Uncle says the part was made 
for me.” 

Rodney flushed with pleasure. “He’s right. 
The part was made for you,” he said. 

The afternoon was waning and dinner time 
was near when the two young people strolled 
away for a quiet chat in the rose garden, and 
Tom and Molly were left alone. He pulled her 
down into the swing beside him, and she laid 


ALUS WELL THAT ENDS WELL 303 


her head against his shoulder with a contented 
little sigh. 

“Life’s just like a fairy story, isn’t it?” he said, 
smiling down at her happy face. “Everything 
comes out all right in the end.” 

“Yes,” said Molly dreamily, “and the Prince 
marries his Princess, and they live happily ever 
after.” 


EPILOGUE 


Five little figures were lined up along the 
road in front of the Brewster place; five little 
figures with bright, expectant, happy faces. 
Two weeks had passed since Rodney had been 
summoned to New York by telegram, and today 
he was coming back. In fact, he was due at any 
minute. 

“I wonder if anything could have happened,” 
said Hilda in a worried tone. “It’s ever’n ever 
so long since Father started after him.” 

“P’raps the train was late,” suggested Sally. 

“Oh, the two-thirty-eight 
Is never, never late,” 

chanted Phyllis. 

Molly joined them all rosy and breathless 

from her run down the long slope from the house. 

304 


EPILOGUE 305 

“What, never?” she laughed in reply to Phyl¬ 
lis’s couplet. 

“Well, hardly ever,” Phyllis retorted. 

They strained their eyes down the road, each 
hoping to be first to catch a glimpse of their 
faithful old Packarderm; and presently Hilda 
declared that she saw it. 

“Yes, that’s it, sure enough,” said Molly, shad¬ 
ing her eyes with her hand. 

“I sawed it first!” shrieked Bobby excitedly, 
hopping up and down. 

“Hooray!” they shouted as the car drew near, 
“Hooray! Hooray! Hoo—,” but the sound 
died in their throats and they all gazed, open- 
mouthed, not at Uncle Roddy, but at a head 
which was thrust inquisitively out through the 
rear window of the car. A large gray head it 
was, with a long nose and sharply-alert, up¬ 
standing, pointed ears. 

“It’s Rinty!” they yelled, almost beside them¬ 
selves with joy. “It’s Rinty—Rinty!” 

Rodney hopped lightly out as the car came to 
a stop, and swept them all together into a warm 


306 NATALIE AND THE BREWSTERS 


embrace. “No, not Rinty,” he replied in an¬ 
swer to their excited clamor, “but the next thing 
to it; one of his own sons.” 

“Oh, Rod,” expostulated Molly, “you should¬ 
n’t have been so extravagant. Why, he must 
have cost a fortune!” 

“But he’s not from me,” protested Rodney, 
“he’s from Gloria. I told her you wouldn’t want 
her to do it, but it was no use. Her heart was 
set on buying him for the children.” 

Molly gave his arm an understanding squeeze. 

“Come, now,” said Rodney to the impatient 
children, “I’ll let him out and put him through 
his tricks.” 

They flocked about the great dog eagerly, ca¬ 
ressing him and calling him extravagantly lov¬ 
ing names. He was their hearts’ desire, the 
symbol of their highest aspirations. 

Bobby, a little timid of the splendid crea¬ 
ture whose head was level with his own, hung 
back, clinging to. his mother’s hand. Tom 
joined them and, together, they stood watching 
the laughing, shouting flock. 


EPILOGUE 307 

Molly’s face was radiant. “I think their cup 
of happiness is full,” she said. 

“Yes,” answered Tom, “it needed only this to 
make a perfect ‘finis!’ ” 

Bobby looked up with a puzzled face. 
“What’s ’at, Favver?” he inquired. 

Tom laughed as he swung the little fellow up 
to his broad shoulder. “Finis?” he repeated, 
“why that, Sonny-boy, is the end of the story.” 











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